


Power and Control

by TheWanderersWanderingDaughter



Series: Power and Control [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Blood Prejudice, Draco is a knob, Drama, Dumbledore's Army, F/M, General, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Minor Violence, One-Sided Attraction, Punishment, Resistance, Stalking, Surveillance, Suspense, Umbridge - Freeform, Umbridge Bashing, harrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 52,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderersWanderingDaughter/pseuds/TheWanderersWanderingDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few people are born within power. Some are given it. Most have to fight for it. This is a darker retelling of Umbridge's short reign at Hogwarts, and how it came to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Harry Potter.

The hurried staccato click of heeled shoes echoed annoyingly in the Dining Hall, capturing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The din and bustle of the morning feast died down quickly as the source behind the noise passed them, heading for the front of the great room. Acting stealthily, the students turned to each other with annoyed, impatient looks, signaling to each other with their eyes, ' _What is it **this**  time?'_

The staff looked on passively from their table, still eating their breakfast. Sybil Trewlaney looked fearful and almost on the verge of breakdown, but that was how she had looked ever since Professor Umbridge had tried to sack her. Thanks to Dumbledore she stayed, but he was not here now, and everyone was almost counting the days for when that nasty toad of a woman gathered the nerve to try again, wondering what would happen then. The sharp gaze of the Transfiguration Professor followed the movement of the dumpy woman as she buttered her toast. On the other half of the table Snape made no effort to conceal his disdain, his lip curled as she marched her way through the room, jowls aquiver.

When Professor-ahem- _Headmistress_  Umbridge had at last reached the pulpit she planted her meaty little fists onto the flat surface and did her best not to glare at the student body, who were doing their best not to do the same. The awful pink robe she had donned for the day made no effort to conceal her rotund figure-in fact, the unflattering garment made her look more toady than ever, with pom-poms made of yarn sprinkled around the neck to fashion a collar, but more closely resembled warts when viewed from a distance. Many of the students found themselves wishing the robe was green, as it would quite transform her, but further thoughts were silenced when she opened her mouth to speak.

"To whoever is responsible for the mess on the third floor; if you confess now your punishment will not be severe. If anyone has any knowledge on who the culprit is, you are encouraged to come forth. If you do so you will be rewarded handsomely for doing the  _right_  thing."

Across the room, some students smiled slyly, and the more sensible ones kept their faces neutral. Those with a flair for theatrics had the idea to appear surprised. This entire display wasn't out of the ordinary. Since Dumbledore had gone the students had started up their own rebellion against the new Headmistress. Every day left them with a new surprise, another wanted culprit for one act of defiance or another. Nasty messages on the walls in the corridors, an attempted food fight by the lower years, barrages of flying paper cranes or dragons that pelted Filch on the head were only a few. Someone (everyone suspected Peeves) had got some of the ghosts to gather around Umbridge for a whole day and blow loud raspberries every time she opened her mouth, drowning out every word she uttered until she somehow got the Bloody Baron to scare them off. No one would confess to it, but someone had charmed the suits of armor that lined the halls to croak like a toad whenever she passed by them. But, much to everyone's collective displeasure, she remained in the castle despite all their admirable efforts to drive her out. To hers, no matter how many privileges she took away or threats she made, no one would admit guilt.

Umbridge looked around, waiting. When no one stepped forward, she gave a long sigh.

"I know how you must all be keenly suffering the loss of your previous Headmaster, but the way he has run this school for the past years have not been satisfactory. The Ministry has placed me here to right was has been done wrong. I am merely here to  _help_  you, don't you see? I am not your enemy, I am your  _friend_. If you work  _with_  me, we can correct his mistakes." She attempted a look at pity, "It  _pains_  me to have to treat you so strictly, but I do it all for you. Unless you all begin to behave like good children do you force my hand in retribution, so effective today, all trips to Hogsmeade are cancelled," she said. Immediately there was uproar from every table except for the staff, who wisely kept quiet.

"You can't do that!" Pansy Parkinson shouted loudly above everyone else, who angrily nodded their agreement.

" _Keep your voice down, Miss Parkinson!_ Until the persons responsible for these… _atrocities_  are caught, I am forced to continue tightening restrictions."

"That's not fair!" shouted Dean Thomas.

"But we didn't do it!"

" _Silence_!" the Headmistress shouted, rapping her knuckles against the pulpit for attention. "If these disgraceful acts continue all free periods shall be taken away next! You are dismissed!"

"She didn't say what it was this time, did she?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they walked away from the Gryffindor table. They walked quickly, taking care to conceal the fruit and bits of toast they had not had time to finish at the table. When Umbridge was in a worse mood, she had the habit of ending breakfast hours earlier than usual, and often prohibited the taking of food from the table. They weren't sure if she had forgotten to enforce that rule on this particular morning, or if she was too angry to care.

"No," Ron said, looking over his shoulder before snagging two muffins from a bowl and stuffing them into his pockets.

"It must have been very bad then," Harry said. "Or nasty enough to make her too squeamish to mention it."

Hordes of other students passed them, also concealing various breakfast foods in their hefty robes or schoolbags. Lee Jordan passed them, hurriedly cramming a brown parcel into his pocket.

"Lee Jordan," Hermione called. When he turned, there was an innocent smile on his face. "How's the boy's lavatory on the third floor?"

"It'll be out of order for a few days," he said, grinning widely. "Unless you're fond of music."

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"Nevermind. I've got to run," Lee Jordan said, pulling a pear out of his pocket. Patting the other, which was heavy with the mysterious parcel, he smiled at Ron. "Your brothers send their love," he said, and left.

Once he was gone Hermione leaned in to speak to Harry and Ron.

"I caught him last night on my way back from the library. He's charmed all the toilets to sing loudly every five minutes. Really raunchy stuff, he couldn't stop laughing when he showed me."

Ron whooped. "I've got to take a look at that later, if she hasn't got Filch guarding it."

"Reckon he's behind the suits of armor thing?" Harry asked, laughing.

"The what?" Hermione asked. "Oh, the croaking, you mean? Probably. He's really talented at charms, isn't he?"

"I'll bet that parcel was from Fred and George," Ron muttered, peering after Jordan, who was still making his way down the corridor. "I wonder how they're getting all this stuff past the new security checks."

"Dunno," Harry said, nibbling on some French toast. "What do we have first?"

"History of Magic," Hermione said, looking at her timetable. "With Slytherin."

"There goes the prospect of a good morning," Harry sighed.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, mate, it's been such a pleasure so far."

* * *

"Seat taken?"

Hermione jumped, and turned to the right. Draco Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her and motioned at the chair he was referring to.

"No, go ahead," she said, turning back to face the front of the room and he sat down, shrugging off his robe. Pulling his satchel onto his lap, he began to rummage through it for some parchment and a quill. In the front of the room, Professor Binns had already begun the lecture, failing to notice half the class was still just barely settling into their seats. Hermione glanced across the aisle. Harry couldn't seem to find his notes from the previous class, and Ron had already sunk low into his seat, staring blankly at the words that appeared on the board as their Professor droned on. She scowled at them.

Dimly, she heard Malfoy swear under his breath. A second passed, and she heard him clear his throat quietly. Another passed, and he did it again, more pointedly. Having gotten the hint, Hermione turned to face him with her eyebrows raised politely.

"D'you need something?"

He was slouched in his seat; hands still in his bag but his eyes were fixed on hers. "Could you lend me a quill?"

She motioned for him to wait, and reached into her schoolbag to grab the spare she always carried, fighting the mad urge to laugh. At least he'd been polite, which was more than she'd expected.

Once she'd handed it to him, she turned back to her notes, but didn't miss him discretely wiping the grip of her quill with the sleeve of his robe. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she'd been wrong. Still, this strange behavior was preferable to his regular taunts and insults, though it made her feel weird. Her eyes swept across the room. There was more than one empty seat-why choose to sit next to her?

 _We all know how he feels about blood purity or-_ she rolled her eyes- _the lack of_.

She glanced at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye. _Sudden change of heart? Extremely unlikely. It's got to be something else._

The class was uneventful, as always, but by some small miracle they were assigned less homework than usual. Malfoy had remained silent through the whole lesson, which kept her spirits up. His thoughts were definitely wandering elsewhere; he hadn't even bothered to keep up with the note taking. From the few glances she stole of his face, it was clear he was unhappy about something, but Hermione was content to chalk it up to the news about Hogsmeade and leave it there, for his troubles were none of her concern.

When class was dismissed Hermione sprang out of her seat, gathering her things at top speed to meet Harry and Ron at the door before moving on to her next class, which was two floors up.

Malfoy had stood up too, and came closer, slinging his bag over his body. His robes were folded neatly inside his bag.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. Avoiding her touch, he placed the borrowed quill on her desk even though she had reached for it and swept from the room without another word. Hermione frowned, and put the item back into her bag before walking out of the room. By then he was gone, but Harry and Ron met her outside the classroom.

"What was that about?" Ron asked as Hermione met him and Harry at the door.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "Malfoy was just returning my quill. It was strange."

"How?" Harry asked, cleaning his classes. They began walking down the hall to the stairs leading up to the upper floors.

"He was almost  _civil_."

"Alert the Ministry!" Ron exclaimed, laughing.

"Maybe he's upset about the Hogsmeade thing," Harry suggested.

"That's what I thought. But never mind, I've got to run. See you in a bit!" She hurried off before they could reply.

* * *

Draco slammed his chosen book down onto the table. The resulting boom echoed through the library, earning him a soul-withering glare from Madame Pince. Draco shrugged half-heartedly in reply, miming he had hurt his wrist, and she turned away, still scowling.

There was an Inquisitorial Squad meeting with Umbridge in a half hour. Until then he had best find what he needed. Draco closed his eyes and let his hands fall from the table. At least it got him out of class, but he really didn't care at all for these constant meetings, and they'd  _just_  had one this morning. Draco wasn't against Umbridge, but he certainly didn't want to spend any more time in her presence than he had to.

Someone walked past and he focused back on the book, flipping it open but his eyes didn't take in a single word.

 _It won't be easy,_  he thought to himself.  _Umbridge doesn't know what she's signed herself up for._   _As if I didn't have enough on my bloody plate with OWLS coming up, now I have to spy on Granger of all people. What **fun**  that'll be. Shame I didn't get Potter. That at least would have been slightly more interesting than following the Mudblood around the school._

To be fair, he knew Umbridge wasn't too far off the mark about that secret organization inside the school. It was definitely something he could see Potter doing. The only problem was none of them had proof of it.

_And if they've gone half the year without revealing anything I doubt we'll get any answers from them so quickly._

Off in the farther end of the library two second years were talking too loudly. Their whispers carried over to Madame Pince, who rushed over to scold them. Draco stood up, irritated. He couldn't focus and it was nearly time for the meeting anyhow.

Just as he exited the library someone passed him in a rush, and her shoulder knocked into his. Draco barely noticed but looked behind him at the same time she looked over her shoulder, frowning. It was Granger. He heard her soft-spoken apology but didn't acknowledge it since he was already too far away and just seeing her made him angry. For a very brief moment he found himself almost wishing Dumbledore was back, just for the sake of sparing him this task. Almost.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter.

Hermione's feet were sore-she rubbed at a knot in her spine as she walked to the supply closet to stow away the broom and dustpan she'd been using. The rubbish had been neatly deposited into the bin and the room was back to rights. It had been a most productive DA meeting-under Harry's guidance they had begun to practice the Patronus charm. Most everyone had been able to produce a half-formed Patronus, except for her, Ginny, Luna, and even Ron, who had managed to form a complete charm. The meeting was supposed to have lasted longer, but they had all thrown themselves into the lessons so wholeheartedly that halfway in they were all quite exhausted. It didn't help that along the way Neville had somehow managed to cast a Reducto charm at the ceiling and had caused a shower of deteriorated brick to rain down on them. Poor Neville's horrified face had made everyone erupt into gales of laughter and they all had to assure him no one had been injured.

Nevertheless, that had been the last straw for them all to end the meeting and go shake the dust from their hair and robes. She had opted to stay lookout to make sure no one would be caught and besides, someone had to clean up the mess. Rather than use magic, she'd opted to conjure a broom and dustpan to tidy up. Had the others seen her, they would have gawked but she didn't care. She was a witch, yes, but sometimes it just felt good to do things the Muggle way. Besides, a little manual labor never hurt anyone.

Before she left the Room of Requirement she cracked the door open and took a cursory glance around to make sure Umbridge and her posse weren't skulking about. Another, longer look around was reserved for Filch and his wretched cat. Umbridge had more power, it was true, but Filch had more experience. Years of skulking around the castle, frightening the youngest students and catching the 'wrong-doers' and 'rabble-rousers' had given him a hard earned talent for spying around the castle-a talent which was increasingly hard for the caretaker to maintain due to his age.

Having the Maurader's Map would have made things easier but Harry had taken it with him at her insistence. Upon observation however, there was no one to be seen and she had waited long enough so Hermione brushed the last of the dust off her robes and shouldered her bag, worked a small, inconspicuous smile on her face and swept out of the room. Dinner was in an hour, she figured as she looked at her wristwatch, so she had a bit of time to kill. The corridors she passed through were empty, and that was good. That meant everyone else had left without any trouble, and she could arouse no suspicion.

As she walked her heavy school bag knocked against her hip repeatedly. Hermione frowned, rubbing her shoulder where the strap was digging into her flesh. OWLS were coming up in a few months… Harry and Ron often told her she was taking too many classes, and she knew it was true but she had chosen it, hadn't she? She knew what she was doing, and always proved she was more than capable of keeping up with the loads of homework she was assigned, but still, sometimes she wished she didn't have to carry so many books around every day. Then maybe her hip wouldn't always be bruised to pieces.

Shaking that thought out of her head, Hermione began to wonder what she would do next.

 _To the library?_  She wondered.  _Or shall I go find Harry and Ron?_

All at once she stopped walking, trying to decide what way she should go. Her fingers strummed softly against the strap of her schoolbag.

_"Boo."_

The voice came from behind, much closer to her ear than she would have liked, and sent her heart skyrocketing into her throat. Hermione gave a loud shriek and jumped away. One hand flew to her heart; the other drew out her wand as she whirled around.

Smooth, contemptuous laughter surrounded her and she blushed furiously upon finding Malfoy there with his wand drawn. Perfect white teeth flashed at her. With his pale coloring and gleaming silver-gold hair, he could have passed for a ghost had he not come so close.

Still blushing, she opened her mouth to say something rather rude when he abruptly stopped and flicked his wand toward her. On impulse her fingers tightened around the smooth wood, but it was too late, and her wand was wrenched out of her hand regardless by an unseen force. Her mouth hung open in shock for a second before she snapped it shut, clenching her jaw.

"Cat got your tongue at last?" he asked, pocketing her wand. The dim light of the corridor gleamed in his pale hair. Parts of it were colored the palest gold, like faded thread of the same color. The Slytherin was dressed in black from head to toe as usual; the mandatory school robes had been exchanged for a smart black suit in favor of the weekend, very unlike his peers who chose more casual attire. With his proud height and sure, smug smile, he looked almost a mirror image of his father. The hairs on her arms bristled.

 _All he needs is the Mark and the mask,_ Hermione thought _._

"Give me my wand back!"

"You'll have it back in a moment," he reassured her with a lazy roll of his eyes. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you, Granger."

"Well," she said, "What do you want? I don't see why you must take my wand from me when all you want to do is talk."

"Straight to the point, aren't you? No chitchat?" he asked in an amused tone, with his head tilted to the side, lips coiled into a smirk. "No matter." He waved his wand and she stumbled, taken aback, as her arms were forced together behind her back and held there by invisible restraints.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked. "Release me!" She was swiftly silenced, whilst yelling at him she had failed to hear his "Silencio."

Strong, ghostly hands grabbed her shoulders and began to steer her into the nearest empty classroom. The whole way there she protested even though her voice could not be heard; she dug her heels into the ground and thrashed around in an attempt to shake him off.

"Calm yourself, spitfire," he murmured into her ear before he shoved her into the room. She heard the sound of the door close, and the lock clicking into place after it.

Once the room was locked and soundproof he turned to face her, where she had scrambled to the far side of the room, glaring daggers at him.

"Take a seat, won't you?" he gestured towards the desks but she shook her head, and jerked her head to motion behind her, then twisting at the waist to illustrate her point: her hands had been bound too tightly, and she wanted them free.

"I won't untie you until you sit," he told her calmly. "Be a dear, won't you? I don't quite enjoy being alone in a room with you and-correct me if I'm wrong- but I'm sure you feel the same about me, so sit down and you're one step closer to leaving, alright?"

Distrustful eyes shifted to the door, and then back to him, but they both knew the hopelessness of her trying to escape. He still had her wand, after all. Smirking, he tipped his head to the side as her eyes crept to the door one more time, as if seriously considering it.

"I could be wrong, though," he remarked.

Her eyes swiveled back onto him.  _About what?_  They asked him. Clearly she hadn't been paying attention.

"For all I know you might fancy me."

Her eyes rolled so far back into her head for a second he thought she had actually gone and fainted.

"Do you, Granger?" he was laughing now. "Go on, give us the truth. Promise I won't tell. But I can't say I'll behave any nicer towards you. You are just a Mudblood, after all."

While talking, he'd been making his way towards her, and the mutiny in her eyes became clearer with every step he took.

"And incredibly annoying," he added as an afterthought.

When he looked at her again her expression had shifted into one of mock politeness, eyebrows arched and eyes inquiring, with her lips set in something that hovered between a smile and a grimace. She blinked once, twice. The message was obvious.

_Are you quite finished?_

"Oh, Granger. You tell me. I told you to sit down and yet you're still standing. Why make things harder for yourself? Are you trying to draw this out to be longer than it has to be? Do you fancy me  _that_  much?"

Another glare of her eyes, and she abruptly sat down onto the Professor's desk.

True to his word, he lifted the restraining spells and she began to rub at her wrists.

"Don't be delusional, Malfoy," she said primly. "I know you're desperate for attention but if you're going to delude yourself that I might fancy  _you_ , then you're duller than a troll."

"You wound me to the quick." Draco feigned a look of upset, which quickly morphed into an unsettling smile. "Is it Potter you pine for, then? Or – _eugh_ \- Weasley? Goodness, Mudblood, everything about you is  _saturated_  in bad taste."

Ignoring the insult, Hermione sighed impatiently. Now,  _this_  was the Malfoy she was used to-though he'd never done anything like this before, and it  _was_  unsettling-more so than the calm, almost polite attitude he'd adapted when he'd sat next to her in class. It had been a front, she realized.  _But for what?_  He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary. He'd kept to himself. She wondered again what on Earth had prompted him to sit beside her since he usually liked to stay well away from her unless he was in a bullying mood. She peered at him suspiciously. A glint of silver on his robes caught her eye and she noticed the ugly little badge at last.

 _Of course. Stupid of me to have forgotten so easily_ , she thought.  _But in case it isn't…_

"If I didn't know any better, Malfoy, I'd say it was you who was dragging this on."

That silenced him effectively, and he glowered at her.

"Why did you bring me here?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her.  _Don't play stupid,_ the look read.

"Information," he said simply. "Umbridge knows you and Potter have got some illicit study group going on and she's sent us to sniff you out."

 _I was right after all,_ she thought, dismayed.  _Like hell I'll tell him, the arrogant arse._

But she couldn't give anything away, so she kept the curious look currently on her face.

"By 'us' I suppose you mean the Inquisitorial Squad?" she asked, already knowing the answer. At his confirmation she pursed her lips. "There is no group. I've heard of no such thing. Now you give me my wand back and let me out or I'll see to it that you're irreversibly turned into a flobberworm."

Draco smiled again, but it was different to the smiles she'd seen earlier-it was one of restrained anger.

"You sound as threatening as a Pygmy Puff," he said, toying with an exquisite ring on his little finger-likely a priceless family heirloom.

"I could say the same for you," she replied smoothly. "Except for you, a Pygmy Puff is quite a stretch. So next time you want to intimidate someone, send someone else instead." Swiftly, her hands smoothed her skirt and she made to slide off the desk.

Clear eyes darkened with anger, in a blur of movement his hand shot out towards her and wrapped around her neck. She stilled at once, and turned large, furious eyes onto his. Her nostrils flared.

"Let me go."

"Not until I make something clear," he hissed. She kicked at him, trying to push him away, he only grimaced and pinned her legs against the side of the desk with his knees.

"Draco Malfoy, you take your disgusting hands off me this instant!" When he made no move to do so she struck at him, catching him in the chest. "I said let me go, you imbecile!"

"Watch your tongue, you filthy little  _Mudblood_."

"Not when it concerns people like you," she said haltingly, struggling to breathe.

In response he squeezed harder, and she fell silent. When she tried to scoot away and off the desk he pulled her closer and dug his fingers into her throat, and she had to fight not to release the great gasp that was lodged in her lungs. Her eyes sought his and she flinched at the hate that showed there. She was no stranger to prejudice-she knew his reasons for disliking her though she'd never thought they would run so deep, but his eyes were still on her, full of anger, and eyes never lied.

He might have said something, she didn't know-his mouth moved but no words registered; all she could hear was her heartbeat, gradually getting slower. In a daze, her hands settled on his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from her throat, her nails pierced his skin briefly before she let them drop and fixed her gaze onto him.

And then he let her go. One hand pressed at her neck and the other supported her upright as she coughed quite violently before she began to breathe in deeply. The colour returned to her face slowly.

"Sure you don't want to tell me anything about that misfit group of yours?" he asked, adjusting his sleeves.

"There isn't one," she repeated shakily. Trembling hands massaged her neck for a second, and she winced while she stared at him, as if still not entirely sure that had just happened. Draco stared back coolly.

"I'll have you expelled for this," she said. Her hands were still around her neck, a shielding layer of flesh and bone; as if she thought he would try again. "I suspected Umbridge was going to have us questioned by her lackeys," she said, "but I don't think her or the Ministry would be in accordance to your behavior. This," she said, her voice growing stronger with the accusation, "this is  _violence_ , Malfoy."

"You've forgotten Dumbledore doesn't run this school anymore," he said softly. "And Umbridge doesn't give a shit about you." He saw the hurt in her eyes, even as she tried to conceal it.

"Dumbledore isn't the only person I can go to," she seethed. "Even if Umbridge doesn't care for me, what would she think of you, her star pupil, performing acts of violence on other students?"

He didn't react, but she could tell what he was thinking.

_Nice to know he values his standing more than my life. But then I knew that all along._

Hermione stepped to the door, and he followed her.

"Get away from me."

"You're not going to tell anyone about this," he warned, stepping in front of the door.

"Really? Watch." She tried shoving him aside, and he held his ground. Quickly, her hands darted inside his robes, seeking her own wand, and he backed away quickly out of her reach.

"Is this what you want?" Grey eyes taunted her as he pulled it out of his pocket. "Give me a more believable answer and you'll have it back."

Hermione stepped towards him, feigning compliance.

Once she had reached him she made a grab for her wand, but the desired object was snatched away and stashed back into his pocket, and he tutted.

"Not so fast. I would still have a word with you. Sit back down."

Hermione had run out of patience. She slapped him.

"You have no right to order me about!" she hissed.  _"I want my wand!"_

The mark her palm left on his cheek bloomed bright and red, as if a flame had been ignited beneath his skin, but his eyes were colder than any winter she had ever known when he looked down at her. A shiver snaked a cold trail down her spine but she stood her ground, determined not to move.

"The first time you did that, in Third Year, I swore to myself I'd get you back for it. I never did, did I? Guess I forgot, but you've reminded me." Long fingers brushed his marked skin and those cold, peculiar eyes fixated on her. "It seems I owe you double now."

"What you  _owe_  me is my wand back."

He laughed then, a low mean laugh before he darted forward and grasped the front of her robes in both hands. Hermione tried to block the grab but he was strong, and her hands wrapped around his, trying to pull them off her.

She snarled. " _Get_ _off!_!"

"You need to be shown your rightful place," he said, pulling her closer. Their noses almost touched; they were staring full into each other's eyes and Hermione's hands at once began to feel clammy and numb. "You are nothing, Mudblood," he shook her. " _Nothing_. Your kind is the shame of the Wizarding community. You  _dare_  talk back to me?"

"I'll talk back and plenty more, you bigoted abomination," she seethed, and with a sudden burst of strength she tore herself out of his grasp so suddenly he almost fell backwards. Not bothering to look back, Hermione made a beeline for the exit, preparing to try a wandless Alohamora if necessary, but before she could reach the door he was in front of her again.

"I don't recall giving you permission to go anywhere, Granger," he said and she stared at him incredulously.

"I'm sorry-I must have missed the owl!  _I need your permission?"_

He frowned at her. "Did I stutter?"

"You talk out of your arse all the time, Malfoy. Obviously I'm going to have a hard time understanding anything you say."

With no warning, she found herself on her knees at his feet, unable to move at all. She wrestled against the magic, fighting to stand again, but she remained frozen. Her bones had turned to steel and she couldn't move; she felt if a single part of her moved without his permission she'd shatter.

His voice came from above, cold and distant. "You should learn to control that mouth of yours, Granger. Such dirty language makes it unappealing. But let's take advantage of that for now." He moved his wand down, gesturing towards his feet, and at once Hermione bent over them and pressed her lips to the tip of his boot.

"Now you know, Granger," came his voice from above, laced with triumph. " _This_  is where you belong."

Her lips left his boot at last and kissed the other fervently, with her eyes closed. Her hands before her lay flat on the ground, trembling with the urge to clench into fists, but that was denied by his spell. Satisfied, Draco took a step back.

"This stays between us, Granger. Understand?"

Something that was not her bent her head down, then back up. There was bile on her tongue. For a moment she found herself glad her eyes were closed; she was afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Softly, his foot nudged her aside and he walked to the door. The sound of his footsteps stopped there.

"I expect the truth next time," he said, and his footsteps resumed. There was a loud clatter as her wand was rudely discarded by the door as an afterthought. The creak of the door opening filled her ears, and then the slam of it closing after his triumphant exit. The second he had gone Hermione was released from his spell and she rose at once, breathing erratically, wiping tears from her eyes. Her cheeks burned and she wiped her lips angrily, fancying she could taste the leather polish of his footwear. It burned like acid on her lips. Once she had her wand back she smoothed out the wrinkles in her robes and found her schoolbag behind the desk she'd been sitting on earlier, although she didn't remember taking it off at all.

There was no one outside in the corridor when she fled the room, and that was good. She didn't want anyone to see her like this.

_'This is where you belong...'_

She hated him. More than she'd ever learned to hate anyone, in fact. So much that it burned her from the inside out, the rage she felt.

It wasn't until she'd reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that she realized she had started crying again.

"Are you alright, my dear?" asked the Fat Lady.

Hermione gave her the password and climbed inside the Gryffindor common room.

Keeping her head bent, she rushed through one room after another until she found herself in the comfort of her dorm, struggling to remove her tie. The sliding whisper of the fabric against the collar of her shirt roared in her ears. Her palms still held indents from the floor. Rather than deal with the buttons on her shirt, Hermione pulled it off over her head, and let it drop to the ground. She rubbed at her eyes, hating the wetness there.

 _He's wrong. Everything about him is wrong. He thinks he can order me around like my sole purpose in life is to do his bidding. Does he really think I won't tell anyone? He was bad enough as a Prefect but now he's teamed up with Umbridge he thinks he's better than anyone in the school._  After having changed into her pyjamas she entered the bathroom and scrubbed the tears from her face, using cold water.  _I shouldn't be ashamed of my descent. I have no reason to be. It's him that's wrong.  
_

Exhausted, Hermione drew the curtains closed around her bed, and climbed in. She settled, and tried to clear her mind with hardly any success. Out of everything Malfoy had said there was one thing that had bothered her the most, more so than the fact that Umbridge was definitely aware of the DA's existence, more than his insults. The two words raised a chill up her spine, and made her angrier than ever.

_Next time._


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

The office was entirely pink and no matter what direction he looked in he did not fail to find at least one lace doily. Entirely overdone to an awful effect, much like his great aunt's home had been before she had died, only her preferred color hadn't been pink. He had been glad to leave that place and was eager to do so now, but he had a complaint and would not rest until it was resolved.

 **"** You should have let me watch Potter instead," he told her, fighting to keep the accusing tone from his voice, and barely succeeding. "Or Weasley. Anyone but  _her_."

"Mr. Malfoy," the Headmistress began impatiently, but still in keeping with her annoyingly high-pitched voice, "You have never been able to control your temper when dealing with Potter. I have peeped at your record and found that the both of you have had too many- _hem_ -discordances in your previous years and your father has expressed a wish that no more black marks be made to your record. If you are hurt or caught in another altercation with another student your father will have my head. He spoke to me himself about this, and instructed me to remind you that Potter is an unstable boy and you would do your best to keep your distance for the time being."

Draco repressed the urge to scoff, and stared angrily at the space above her head.  _To hell with my father._  He decided to try a different tactic.

"He doesn't know what I know about Potter," he said defiantly. "If you had assigned him to me in the first place instead of the Mudblood, we would probably have information by now."

"I do not like to change my mind, Draco," she said somewhat stiffly, "and your father was very stern about this."

Umbridge straightened the golden nameplate on her desk with a sickeningly fond expression. One of the kittens in the porcelain plates behind her meowed loudly and Draco gave it his best glare. "Besides," she continued, "You would be the obvious choice where Potter is concerned. There is too much hostility between yourselves; he would expect it to be you if he ever finds out he is being watched. The Granger girl is of lesser importance, but you will learn what you can from her regardless."  
"But-"

She tutted, smiling. "Kindly do not interrupt me while I am speaking, Draco."

When he remained silent, she reached out and gave his hand a pat. All Draco felt was the metallic warmth from the numerous ugly rings she wore. "I understand wholeheartedly-you object because she is of lower birth and blood," the way she said these words, Draco could just hear the slurs she wanted to use, "but it is too late to reassign you. The others have taken their orders and you shall as well. Simply take care not to lose your temper with her. Have I made myself clear?"

Draco thought of a flushed face, a warm, wildly pulsing neck between his hands. His hands felt cold.

"Yes, Professor."

There was a perilous creaking sound as she leaned back into her chair with her fat hands folded in her lap. The look on her face was a little bitter.

"I have observed her while she has been in my class," she began, and Draco did not fail to notice how her voice had fallen to a lower, meaner pitch. It both suited her better and made her look even worse in his eyes. "…And despite the circumstance of her birth she seems a more well-behaved, clever sort of person than her friends. What troubles me is that she is too cunning for her age-that makes her a target and a threat. Previously in my workings at the Ministry I observed enough of her type to know that her nature is of the sort which will eventually turn criminal, the type that  _our_   _kind_  must watch for, and I am sure you agree."

Draco nodded.

"She has a perfect record," the woman continued, "not one black mark. No bad behavior, nothing."

"It's only because the Professors love her so much," he said angrily. "Except Snape. She protects herself with the image of the perfect pupil, that way no one dares speak against her because in their eyes she can do no wrong…but every year she, Potter, and Weasley cause more trouble in the school than the ten worst students combined, and none of them are ever punished for it." His face clouded with resentment.

Umbridge's smile was wide; it stretched her whole face to a highly unflattering degree, making it look like a length of lumpy, misshapen clay stretched tight. The pink bow nestled in her mop of curls wobbled as she nodded vehemently.

"Follow her," she said, "and learn her secrets. Question her until you get answers. With luck, in a month's time we will have gained enough knowledge to expose and crush their pathetic group and I will have the freedom to command my school as I please."

"I will," Draco promised, and stood. "May I leave?"

Umbridge's beady little eyes gleamed with pride as she waved him away, and Draco moved quickly to leave the cramped pink space behind him.

* * *

For days afterward there was no other incident. Malfoy kept his distance and Hermione did her homework, went to class and lunch and dinner, performed Prefect duties with Ron, while keeping the shameful account of her humiliation to herself. The day after it happened Hermione had dreaded going into the Great Hall for meals-she had expected to find a group of Slytherins waiting to laugh at her, but there was nothing save for his cold gray eyes watching her from where he sat. For the rest of that week it was the same in any classes she shared with him, and it took all her self-control to keep herself from whipping out her wand and cursing him in front of everyone but for numerous reasons she restrained herself, and she was forced to endure those awfully smug eyes and the curl of his lip whenever their eyes met. Harry and Ron noticed nothing; they were too swamped in piles of homework and in class they hardly paid anything any attention.

Hermione was distraught with herself for having let him take her down in that manner. Why could she not have kept her mouth shut? Why did he have to be such a racist ass? Her lips often burned with indignation, at times she fancied she could still feel the warm leather of his boots pressed against them, and it was all she could do not to wipe at her mouth in anger, and struggle to banish the shame that tried to settle over her every now and then.

_I did nothing wrong._

The fault lay with the Slytherin. She had gone too far with that last taunt, she knew, but he had deserved it, hadn't he? The way he had treated her throughout the entire encounter was absolutely disgraceful, and though Hermione did not readily admit it to herself, had made her a little more apprehensive of the individual than usual.

Just the thought of him made the contents of her stomach curdle into a sour lump. When she had to walk through the corridors, she made sure she was surrounded by classmates and never vulnerable for another encounter, which she was determined would not happen. Without raising Harry and Ron's suspicions she made sure the DA was more cautious in their proceedings, abandoning their set schedules to assemble on random days and sometimes they even met before breakfast on weekends because the Inquisitorial Squad had taken to patrolling the castle more frequently than before, making it difficult for the DA to meet up; since they all headed in the same direction, no one wanted to draw attention to the mysterious room on the seventh floor.

In the space of time those days provided she and Malfoy had no other encounter, of that she was very careful to ensure. There were times when she wanted to speak to one of her Professors after class, to confess what had happened, but each time she went near them with this intention her mouth went quite dry and she found she could hardly utter a single word, much to her distress. This would not do. Was it fear, she wondered, or was it the humiliation that kept her from speaking out? Whatever it was, it was making things worse.

Often, she considered telling Ron and Harry.  _But what could they do?_  she thought.  _Sympathize, and then lose their temper the next time they ran into Malfoy._ _What would that accomplish_?  _Only another round of detentions with Umbridge for the three of them, and more questioning._ She had to constantly remind herself Malfoy was nothing more than a severely misguided fool and that was that. If she retaliated, he would have reason to report her to Umbridge, and that might make them hound after the DA even more though she'd given nothing away.

_But that doesn't mean he's won. None of that would ever have happened if I'd had my wand. It was a dirty trick, not letting me fight back. I'll get a chance to retaliate soon enough, if the Gods are good._

Even if she did tell, what would be the outcome? With Umbridge in charge, she doubted things would go in her favor. Professor McGongall could rage all she wanted, but she had lesser power now that Dumbledore was gone, Umbridge had seen to that right away, to the outrage of many of the students. Surely it didn't help at all that Umbridge was in alliance with the Ministry, or that Malfoy was her favorite.

Umbridge was a foul, horrible woman, but she wasn't entirely stupid, and Hermione had realized that too late. 

 _We should have seen this coming,_  she thought.  _It's only going to get worse._

And as for Malfoy…

 _He'd get a slap on the wrist, at best_ , she thought angrily. _And I'd be branded a liar, literally._  The image of Harry's newest ill-gotten scar was still fresh in her mind, making her stomach turn. She wanted no souvenir of her own.

* * *

As Hermione stewed in anger and distress, Draco continued his secret observations of the Gryffindor, as he had been ordered.

The first few days had been the hardest-it was strange, he often thought, how someone who carried such a heavy bag could move so quickly-she flitted from one class to the next like a Seeker in search of her Snitch, and he'd hardly been able to catch up. He hadn't been able to pin her until walking that day into their shared class and seeing that empty chair beside her-the idea had come in a flash-and before he could talk himself out of it, he had gone to it. What a stroke of luck that had been. That tracker charm he'd placed on her quill told him where she was at all times, so he didn't need worry if he ever lost sight of her.

The spell wasn't as strong as he would have liked it to be-every now and then it would malfunction and he'd lose all trace of her for hours on end. At times he suspected she'd found out about it, and was simply messing with him, but he knew she'd have the sense to dismantle the charm rather than risk him finding out whatever she might be hiding. In the end he decided it must have happened whenever she was in the Gryffindor Tower, and left it at that.

The day after the attack he'd caught her when she tried to creep unnoticed into the Dining Hall for breakfast. Untroubled, he remained seated and calm while she actively avoided his gaze for the first few minutes as she spoke to her friends, but quite by accident her eyes locked onto his and he saw the anger she held there. Before he could catch himself his gaze dipped down to her neck, searching for the bruises he knew he'd made there. There were none; either she'd used glamour charms to hide them or had healed them immediately after. By the time he looked back up she'd turned away.

 _I shouldn't have let her get to me_ , he thought, his gaze straying back to her throat.  _I took it too far._

His first thought was that if Umbridge knew what he'd done he would have been booted from the Inquisitorial Squad, favorite or not, but the more he thought about it something told him otherwise. Umbridge didn't care too much for Gryffindors, or upjumped Mudbloods, at that. To be sure, Draco didn't want word of this getting to his father, who already thought his behavior was bordering on unacceptable for a Malfoy. While Draco didn't care what his father thought, he certainly didn't want him on his tail again nor did he want to give up the power the little silver pin gave him, so what happened that day would stay secret unless Granger proved as stupid as he thought, and blabbed.

He knew she would be more alert from then on, understandably not wanting another encounter with him, and for a while, he let her be-he was in no mood to be around her again. Somehow the incident had tired him, and he had schoolwork to focus on besides, but even as he slogged through the ever-growing piles of homework one thing constantly nettled at his mind. The girl knew more than she let on.

Not that he had any proof-all he had to go on was a feeling but it was a strong one at least, because if five years in this bloody school with those three damned Gryffindors had taught him anything, it was that they were  _always_  up to something, and this year he was determined to catch them at it. Umbridge had promised them an extremely handsome reward for catching this elusive group, and Draco wanted it, whatever it was, but what was  _slightly_  more tempting was the satisfaction of having brought those three down at last.

One one particular Wednesday morning he walked in for breakfast and while he made his way over to the Slytherin table his eyes slid over the Gryffindor table slowly, scanning the faces of the students assembled there. Laughing. Smiling. Talking. That Brown girl was crying again. One of the Patils was comforting her. Longbottom was half asleep-no surprise. The she-Weasel looked to be in an argument with her brother-were they ever not fighting? Every time he looked at them he was grateful for his lack of siblings. Potter looked dead on his feet, he noted with glee. Almost falling face-first into his porridge. He found his usual seat and sat, continuing his observations. Granger was hissing something in Potter's ear, shaking him by the shoulder. Her hair was in a long braid; the end of it brought over her shoulder and rested on the table, but dipped in and out of her plate as she jostled her friend-when it came back up it shone wetly and something sticky dripped from it-Draco couldn't be sure, but it looked like honey. Granger was too busy to notice.

_Words of motivation? Or a scathing reminder not to put off his homework again? I'll bet a sack of galleons it's the latter. It always is. Granger doesn't seem the wholly encouraging type, somehow._

Still, he watched them carefully, not wanting to miss anything. The tallest of the three stood abruptly, pulled Potter away from the table, and they left, muttering something to each other. Potter at least had the grace to throw an apologetic glance back at his tormentor. Ginny glared at her brother as they left, and Granger seemed relieved to have them both gone, if not a little miffed at the rudeness of their departure.

Draco wondered what the other two had been talking about as he carved a slice out of his apple. Was the sister involved with their group? His eyes went back to her, but she had gone to the Ravenclaw table to meet with Luna Lovegood, and they sat with their backs to him so he couldn't quite tell what they were doing.

That only left Granger, who has risen from the table and as he watched, strode to the door, pulling on her robes. Her face was a calm mask, devoid of emotion, but when her eyes met his he could tell she knew he'd been watching her. The frown was slight, hardly noticeable, but it spread an angry blush on her cheeks and pulled at her mouth. Draco smirked, and she was gone.

 _I'll have the truth from you,_  he thought, dropping the slice, and brought the rest of the apple to his mouth before biting into it with a savage  _crunch_.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

"Shall we get going?"

Hermione looked up from the book on counter jinxes she'd been thumbing through.

"Yes."

The three of them strolled out of the Room of Requirement as casually as if they were leaving their common room. The rest of the DA had already gone, and they'd waited a little while longer while Filch loitered around the seventh floor until Harry deemed it safe enough to leave. It was nearly time for dinner, and thusly the corridors were empty. Much had changed since Umbridge began her reign over the school, the most obvious stared right back at them from the walls they passed that were lined with copies of Educational Decrees and insufferably pink posters that illustrated some of Umbridge's absurd regulations.

 **Educational Decree #57: Students may spend no more than ten minutes in the lavatory,**  one read.

They passed another and Ron scoffed at it.

**Educational Decree #5:Inquisitorial Squad members are allowed to dock and reward points, patrol the halls during class, and be out of bounds** ** when carrying a signed slip ** **_from the High Inquisitor/Headmistress, Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge_ ** **.**

Harry looked at the neat, curly lettering with the utmost loathing, and rubbed absently at the scar on his hand.

"Neville's gotten loads better at Stunning," Ron said, to lighten the mood, and Hermione nodded.

"He surprises me in every lesson," Harry admitted, tearing his eyes away from the wretched sign. "He's becoming a new person now that he's gotten more confident."

"Speaking of confidence, Harry, when are you going to ask Cho out?" Hermione asked slyly, and Harry turned beet red.

"She couldn't keep her eyes off you today, mate," Ron sniggered.

"Ah-We should start on the essay for Potions after dinner," Harry said, trying to change the topic, turning his head to hide his blush.

"Bugger the essay," Ron said wearily.

_"Ronald!"_

"-and Snape too!" he said, shooting Hermione a dirty look.

"Watch what you say," she warned him, punching him in the arm and Harry laughed, but his smile died quickly.

"Guys-"

"You don't know who's lurking around waiting to report to Umbridge," Hermione hissed, and Ron paled.

"Wise words, Granger. Not to mention true."

Hermione's eyes closed, her expression shifted to a grimace.

_Damn Ron and his carelessness…_

Malfoy strode up to them, smirking. Hermione turned to face him.  _That stupid smirk._  She wanted to wipe it off his face with her palm.

"You lot are just gunning to get your own House out of the lead, aren't you? You've been doing so well on accomplishing that, I'm only happy to help. Let's assess the damage…Weasley, that's fifteen points for opening your mouth and twenty for speaking ill of a Professor. Potter, there's ten for taking your wand out-I'll add more if you try hex me. Put it back in your pocket like a good boy and I won't report you. Granger, another ten for being a Mudblood."

Upon seeing her outraged expression, he raised his palms up to his chest, and continued to speak in a mocking tone.

"Don't look so angry! I know it's something you can't help, but," he gave her a nasty smile, "it's offensive to me and your impurity makes me uncomfortable."

Ron lunged at him, Harry and Hermione struggled to hold him back.

"I don't care what Umbridge says, you can't dock points for such absurd reasons!" Hermione spat.

Malfoy  _tsked_  again. "Then I suppose you wouldn't mind talking to her about it." His eyes issued a challenge, his words a veiled threat, and Hermione blanched.

Ron stopped struggling, and Harry and Hermione let him go.

"I do mind," she said evenly. "I've got plans."  _And I'm not going anywhere with you._

His stare was calculating. "Pity. I'm sure the Headmistress would have  _loved_  to hear your opinion on the matter. Perhaps next time."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry snapped, and the trio walked away quickly from Malfoy before the tension led to something they would all regret.

"You'd better think twice next time before slandering your Professors, Weasley," Malfoy called after them. "Unless you want to lose more than points for your house."

"What did he mean by that?" Hermione asked once the Slytherin was out of earshot.

"Could he have been talking about the Gryffindor team?" Harry asked. "Would Umbridge cancel it altogether?"

"Search me," Ron replied angrily. "Nearly sixty points for almost nothing! If he wasn't Umbridge's favorite I'd have slugged him in his privileged little face. That Inquisitorial Squad thing is a load of poppycock; she's only giving them preference because they've agreed to work for her!"

"Keep your voice  _down_!" Hermione moaned. "Do you want to cost us another fifty points!"

Ron glared at her, but kept silent the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower.

The weekend dawned cold and windy but the day was sunnier than the ones before it, and that cheered them well enough, despite the events of the previous day. Breakfast was a dull affair, made even more so by Umbridge choosing to give yet another speech on unity and correction and progress…but no one paid her any attention as she  _hemmed_  her way through the morning.

"If she keeps doing that every single day, I'm going to start skipping meals," Ginny muttered to Hermione as they left the Great Hall together.

"We could start taking our meals directly in the kitchens," Hermione suggested, yawning. "But then if she finds out, she'd probably prohibit that too." Ginny snorted.

"Fancy a walk outside?" Harry asked as he and Ron came up to them. Hermione looked scandalized.

"You both still have loads of homework to do!"

" _We need a break_ , Hermione," Ron said. "Last night we stayed up writing both the Charms and the Transfigurations essays. All we have left is the Potions one."

"Damn," Ginny swore. "I forgot about that one." She looked at Harry curiously. "How're you going to play Quidditch if Umbridge has your broom chained up?"

"Angelina let me borrow hers," Harry said. "Although she almost bit my head off first when I asked. She reckons I should keep 'sharpening' my skills for when Dumbledore comes back, so she can ask if I can get back on the team."

"I'll meet you outside in twenty?"

They nodded. Ginny turned to Hermione. "Are you coming too?"  
"I'd like to," she said, "but there's an Arithmancy assignment I want to look over and I've got a stack of books I need to return to the library. If I've got time, I'll see you all at the pitch."

"Maybe you can play Chaser," Ginny suggested. "We'll borrow a broom for you."

"You all know how I feel about flying," Hermione said, and they laughed. "I'll see you later."

The Arithmancy essay had two errors in it; one was a blot of ink she had accidentally smeared with her little finger when writing it, but had not noticed for lack of sleep. The second was a grammar mistake, easily fixed, but Hermione rewrote the whole thing anyway. When she had finished she gathered her borrowed books and packed them into her bag. For extra measure she brought along a thick coat and a scarf.

The library was nearly empty, as it usually was at this time on weekends. The day was a nice one, so most everyone was taking advantage of that to take a stroll outside. Madam Pince greeted her with a grim smile-the only kind she was capable of giving, but as she almost never smiled at anyone else, it made Hermione feel special so she smiled back. Once she had returned the books she left the library. Normally she would have taken an hour or two to select a new book to read, but the tantalizing glimpse of the bright blue sky that she caught from the high arched windows were irresistible, so she hurried out.

Someone fell into step beside her. Hermione turned, half expecting to find Luna, or Neville. Instead she found Malfoy.

"Enter that classroom coming up on your left," he said quietly, not looking at her, and Hermione's eyes narrowed. As they neared the room he stepped closer, intending to follow her through the door but she kept walking and he almost bumped into her. He caught up to her quickly, and sighed.

"Don't make this difficult."

"I'm not making anything difficult," she said. "I don't want anything to do you with you, but you won't respect that and leave me alone. You're the one with problems if you can't understand the word 'no'."

"You didn't say no before."

"Words don't always have to be expressed verbally. You silenced me, if you'll recall, but I damn well made it clear I did not agree. My friends are waiting for me and I already told you what I know, which is nothing."

"Don't prolong this Granger. There is a group and you're not telling me. You had better confess before Umbridge decides to question you herself."

"I don't trust you," was her reply. "And being questioned by that woman sounds more appealing than being strangled by some brute."

His hand wrapped around her bicep and pulled her back toward him. Hermione stumbled, and caught herself just before she fell into him. His gaze pierced her and her anger rose.

"See what I mean?" she asked, trying to pull away.

"I told you to watch your mouth."

She leaned in close and he drew away, ever so slightly. "And I'll tell you to watch your ego, Malfoy. It's dangerously high. Now take your hand off me or I'll hex you."

His hand fell away from her.

"I  _should_  hex you," she said, stepping back. "After what you did…"

"But you won't," he said simply. "You can't." He tapped the silver pin on his robe. "And this is why."

Several different replies were on her tongue, ready for firing back at his arrogant statement but she chose to keep silent. She glared at him, then at the pin.

"With or without your help," he continued coldly, "we're going to find that group of yours. You can give me what I want right now and receive a pardon or you can suffer with the rest when you're caught."

"There is no group," she repeated through clenched teeth. "You're wasting both our time."

Pulling on her coat, she stalked outside, leaving him alone in the wide corridor.

The next day there was a new Educational Decree posted outside the Great Hall:

**Educational Decree No. Fifty-Eight**

**All students must consent to being questioned by the Inquisitorial Squad if they are considered suspect to withholding information.**

**Etc etc**

**Dolores Jane Umbridge**

"Blimey. This is getting serious," Ron said, looking uneasily at the sign. "How much farther is she going to go?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we should stop the meetings for a while-let her temper cool down. If there's no evidence of the DA meeting for a few weeks then it'll make her think she's grasping at smoke…" She sounded unsure, which made the other two nervous.

"They're going to try to question us, though," Harry said, gesturing towards the poster. "What are we supposed to tell them?"  
"Malfoy already tried asking me about the DA. I told him the group didn't exist. Just stick to that."

"When did Malfoy question you?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Weeks ago," Hermione said. "I was the last one to leave the Room of Requirement, he found me not far from there. That was the first time. The second was only yesterday."

The news unsettled Harry. "I'll cancel the rest of the meetings for this month. Help me spread the word around, but try not to get any attention."

With the aid of Harry's cloak and the map the three of them went around the castle and spread the information to the other members, who were dismayed but agreed it was for the best.

"That wasn't so bad," Ron said when they entered the common room at last some hours later.

"Only because we had the Cloak," Hermione reminded him. "No one could see us. We must have passed at least half of the members of the Inquisitorial Squad and I'm certain they were out looking for us."

Harry ran a hand through his hair worriedly. "This was a bad idea from the start," he said. "I never should have said yes, this is my fault."

"No, it isn't," Hermione told him sharply. "This was as much our fault as it is yours, maybe even more since we nearly pushed you into it."

"Why does it matter so much, though?" Ron asked. "We're practicing spells, not starting a revolution!"

"I think that's what the old hag's afraid of," Harry said.

"But what she's doing can't possibly be approved by the Ministry," Hermione insisted, her face drawn with worry, one hand cupping her neck. "All the threats and the Educational Decrees, it isn't sound…"

"I don't think she cares so long as she gets her means, Hermione."

"At the very least, isn't there anyone we can tell about this?"

"Sirius," Harry said at once. "He's done stuff like this before, I'm sure he'll know." Even as he spoke he could see Hermione's dislike of the idea.

"I'm sure you're right, Harry, but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" he asked defensively.

"Wasn't what happened to Hedwig clear enough? Your mail is being intercepted. Umbridge is keeping a close eye on you. The Floos are watched by the Ministry-it's too risky, and we could get him captured again if we try."

"We've already spoken to him before by Floo," Harry protested.

"We can't risk that again," she insisted. "It's a double-ended fuse, Harry-if we get caught there are serious repercussions for all of us-especially Sirius."

She felt awful for saying it, but it was the truth. Still, seeing Harry's disappointed face didn't make her feel any better. She leaned over and laid her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't be," Harry mumbled. "You're right." He sat down quietly and looked off into the fire.

"We could try my parents," Ron suggested after a lengthy silence. "Mum would bite my head off about the DA, but dad has to know if there's anything going on in the Ministry."

"Don't outright tell them about the DA," Hermione said in a rush. "We're already suspects, apparently. We don't want them to be, too. Simply ask if the Ministry knows exactly what Umbridge is up to here."

"Right," Ron said, and pulled out a length of parchment and a quill from the nearest schoolbag lying on the floor.

" _That isn't yours_!" Hermione hissed, slapping him on the arm.

"It's just paper, Hermione! Not like I took their bloody coin purse, although-blimey-what's this one saving up for?" Ron poked the hefty pouch with the tip of the quill.

"An education someplace else?" Harry asked, smiling thinly. "I'd do the same, at this point."

The three of them fell silent. The empty common room was filled with the sounds of the fire and the scratching of Ron's borrowed quill.

"I wish there was a way we could reach Dumbledore," Harry continued. "None of this would be happening if he was here."

"I doubt he's being idle," Hermione fiddled with a piece of her hair. "That just doesn't seem like him. Maybe he's working on getting rid of her right now, wherever he is."

"I hope so," Ron said, crossing out something on the parchment. "Or else it's up to us, and I haven't got a clue how we'd get that sorted out."

"It's not entirely impossible," Hermione argued, frowning.

"No," Harry agreed, "but right now it feels like it is."


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

Hermione had begun to dread going to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As if it hadn't been bad enough before, it was surely worse now, thanks to Umbridge, who spent most of the forty-five minutes staring hard at the three of them, like that was going to get them to spill everything. It was really quite uncomfortable; whenever one of them caught direct eye contact she would give them a pussycat smile, which might have fooled the stupidest of the First Years, but they all knew malice when they saw it.

All they did now was read from that blasted textbook, and Umbridge reserved the last five minutes of class to take questions and assign homework. If anyone tried to speak while they were supposed to be studying, they were given detention. Umbridge was out for Harry's blood; even though he kept himself mostly in check during her class, she still gave him one detention after the other using the smallest of excuses: he'd gotten a low score on his assignment, he'd dropped his inkpot on the floor, he had tried to help Neville once when the poor Gryffindor had not known the answer to one of Umbridge's questions. Once, his scar had hurt so badly he'd had to clench his jaw shut to keep from shouting; he'd had to grip Hermione's arm to keep from rising from his seat and leaving the classroom. Umbridge had seen, and had given him a week's worth of detentions for 'causing a scene'. Ron had gotten one too for shouting at her after that. It was all monstrously unfair, but no matter how hard they protested and complained she would not relent.

Everyone's frustration was rising higher and higher, when they gathered for their DA meetings their faces were determined and angry. With their wands raised and ready they learned spell after spell, and as Hermione looked around in their midst she felt disheartened at how many bore scars on the backs of their hands. Harry's had grown worse, at this point it was easily visible from a distance, mainly because it was perpetually red and raw no matter how much Essence of Dittany she gave him. The other Professors had caught on, and did their best to heal the damage in secret, for Umbridge had banned anyone from doing so but Umbridge's quills were wickedly sharp and the scars refused to fade.

The atmosphere inside Hogwarts had changed. When Umbridge had begun her reign of terror there had been a spirit of camaraderie and mischief among most of them, they'd done their best to shake her off and out like a bird shakes out its feathers. Unfortunately, the hated woman stuck fast like the smallest, most stubborn speck of dirt, and they were running out of ideas and worse, spirit.

Ron had said the truth of it, when they had found Umbridge's latest decree: it  _was_  frightening. All these rules and limits, the oppressive air inside the school, the other Professors' inability to aid them... There was a disquiet growing inside her that would not go away, and she began to wonder what it would take for things to go back to the way they had once been.

* * *

"Granger, a word?"

"No." She kept walking towards her next class, but three seconds later he had her arm in his hand and she couldn't go any farther. Impatiently, Hermione turned to face him.

"You asked for a word. I gave you one. And I'll thank you to stop grabbing at my arm like that. I'm not a Snitch and this isn't Quidditch."

He held on tight when she tried to slip her arm out of his grasp, tightening his hold on her wrist. "That wasn't the word I wanted."

"Which one did you want, then?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"As in, yes, there is an illegal group." Swiftly, he pulled her after him into the nearest classroom, where he abruptly let her go, as if the mere act of touching her had scalded him. "You might want to take notes, Granger. You've got an exam right now."

"Have you taken it on yourself to harass me as much as possible until the year is over?" She snapped, heading back to the door quickly. "Treating me like a sack of mulch never does you any favors. I am a person, you know, despite my  _unfortunate_  blood-status. I have class, Malfoy. I'm not missing it to tell you the same thing I told you last time." Her hand found the door knob.

"You've been excused."

The news made her pause, and turn to face him incredulously.

"You signed me out of class?"

"The Headmistress did, Granger. Do keep up. I merely delivered the slip to Snape, who said your presence would not be missed. Aren't you lucky?"

"Oh, I'm in rapture."

Malfoy ignored her words. "Keep in mind the Headmistress and all her Decrees won't look kindly towards you if you ignore them. Won't you sit down?"

"I'd love to," she said, clenching her fists. "At the library. In the Quidditch pitch. On my bed. Not here with you."

"If you feel more comfortable there and if it helps your testimony then I'll oblige you," he said. The corners of his lips quirked upwards. "But I don't think you'd quite like having me on your bed."

"I never said I wanted you on my bed. And no, I wouldn't." Angrily, she sat at a desk and crossed her legs. Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparked with discontent.

"Very good," he sat too, on the Professor's desk. "Tell me what you know."

Her eyes shifted downwards to the right. Thinking she was going to tell him at last, Draco waited patiently for her to gather her nerves, but when a full minute passed he began to suspect something was up.

 _Perhaps she needs encouragement,_  he thought.

"Don't think of it as betraying your friends," he said in a soft voice, thinking this would make him sound sympathetic. To Hermione it only made him sound more sanguine, and it raised her temper. "By providing what information you have, you are helping advance a better cause, Granger. It all starts with you and what you know."

Now her gaze slid back to him and her lips moved. Draco leaned forward slightly, waiting.

As an incentive, he added, "All we need is the truth, Granger. A few details: what is the group and where and when you meet, whose idea it was-things like that. Most importantly-what do you do? Give me that and I promise I'll never bother you again."

At that last part she looked tempted, he could see her relishing that possibility in her eyes but that was gone in a second and she turned stoic, and Draco understood.

"If I wanted you mute, I would have cast a Silencio on you. Damn you, talk!"

She smiled at him, her eyes mocking. Her foot tapped on the floor.

Draco approached her, spinning his ring around his little finger.

"Maybe a detention with Umbridge would loosen your tongue," he said softly. "You're one of the few who hasn't had a session yet."

Hermione said nothing, but her eyes narrowed.

"What do you think, Granger? You've seen Potter's hand, I'm sure. Would you like a scar of your own? I can't guarantee you'll turn out as famous as him, but you could try; everyone knows you're desperate enough for approval. If you tell me what I want to know I'm sure Umbridge will be generous as she has been with those who cooperate."

"Tell me," she said suddenly, tilting her face upwards, "did they freely choose to help, or were they threatened too?"

Malfoy drew back, adjusted the sleeve of his robe. "Threatened is a serious word. A few of them were willing to help-some needed a little  _motivation_."

Hermione nodded sarcastically, raising her eyebrows.

Distantly, the bell rang for the end of class, and Hermione stood.

"This was quite entertaining," she said in a fresh voice, crisp with triumph. "I hope you got everything you needed?"

The door swept shut behind her, and Draco was left to fume silently in the empty classroom.

* * *

"Theodore Nott tried questioning me today," Ron said hushedly to Hermione and Harry the next day in the library, where they were working on their Charms assignments.

"How was it?"

"I gave him a Galleon to leave me alone," he replied, smiling wickedly.

"It wasn't the DA messenger, was it?" Hermione asked.

"No," he replied, fighting laughter. "Earlier today I found a Dungbomb by Filch's office that didn't detonate. Thought I'd take it and try throwing it at Umbridge's office instead but we had Transfiguration after, so I practiced on it some during lunch-that's why I wasn't there-and Nott found me. I didn't want to be seen with a contraband item so I turned it into the first thing I could think of."

"You didn't!" Hermione whispered, laughing. Harry grinned.

"Didn't turn out that great but I don't think he noticed," Ron said. "It should go off sometime soon-he'll be in for a surprise."

"Theodore Nott's been needing glasses since third year," Hermione said breathlessly through fits of stifled laughter. "I told him so once when I had to tutor him for History of Magic but he wouldn't listen. Oh, Ron, you're a genius!"

Ron looked very pleased with himself. Harry grinned.

"I hope it gets Malfoy too," Harry said, looking over to the entrance of the library, where Malfoy had just walked in.

"Speaking of him," Hermione whispered, "he tried questioning me again two days ago."

"Again?" Ron asked, frowning. "Isn't that the third time?"

"He knows," she muttered, watching as the Slytherin made his way to the Restricted Section. "And he won't stop bothering me about it."

"What did you tell him?" Harry asked, and Hermione gave a small smile.

"Nothing."

"What did he do?"

"Oh, he made threats and shouted and tried acting sympathetic, like I'd be doing a great service if I told the truth," she said. "But I didn't say anything."

"That was when?"

"Yesterday, during Potions. Umbridge had me excused from class so he could question me."

"That's why you weren't in class?" Ron asked, frowning.

"I don't like this," Harry said.

"No one does," she agreed. "I had to go with him, because of that hideous new Decree, but that didn't mean I had to  _speak_  to him. He didn't take kindly to it."

"That's brilliant," Ron said appreciatively, nodding. "I'm using that one for next time."

"They haven't tried getting to you yet, have they?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry, who frowned, and looked back at Malfoy.

"No. And it makes me wonder why."

"Maybe that means Umbridge herself wants to do it," Hermione offered, and gave Harry a worried look. "You had better be careful, Harry."

Under an unspoken agreement, they stood from the table and gathered their things before walking out of the library. Hermione looked around; Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. The room was well occupied, no one really looked at them as they left.

"You don't think we're being followed, do you?" Ron asked uneasily, looking over his shoulder as they made their way to the Dining Hall. "We just passed Pansy Parkinson, and I swear she was sitting near us when we were leaving the library."

Harry looked unnerved. "I hadn't thought about that."

"None of us did," Hermione said, aghast, her face pale. "Oh, damn, damn,  _damn_. That explains why I keep running into Malfoy." Harry looked down in surprise as she gripped his shoulder hard, then back up to met her eyes. "Harry, I think you should start using your cloak more often."

"Last week you said we shouldn't," Harry said, perplexed.

" _We_ ," she emphasized, pointing to herself and Ron. "Not you. Umbridge is after you and we don't know what means she'll go to to make you talk. Your word is worth more than ours."

"I think you need it more." He looked behind them, rubbing at his scar. "I don't like that Malfoy is following you."

"Nor do I," Hermione shook her head. "But Malfoy isn't Umbridge."

"Still-" Harry went on.

"Look," Hermione interrupted him. "He's tried three times already, and I haven't given him any information. Even if he tries every day for the rest of the school year I won't give him any more than that. I'll easily take Malfoy over Umbridge."

"She'll find me anyway," Harry protested. "The castle does have its limits, and I can't go invisible to class."

"I know, but you're going to stall until then. Make it harder for her."

"Right," Harry said, rubbing his palm over his stinging scar.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

The corridors were empty, but were not like to stay that way for long and the further they walked Hermione feared they would run into a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, or worse. When the others weren't looking she swept her eyes around them to make sure they weren't being followed.

It was her free period and she had been on her way to the Owlery with a letter to her parents tucked safely inside her robes when she'd come across the lower year students, Anne and Cora, making their way to the Hospital Wing. They'd been talking in hushed whispers, which had fortunately carried easily through the empty space and Hermione couldn't help but overhear and take extreme interest in their conversation.

A sudden groaning noise on her left made Hermione jump, and she turned wildly, heart thumping, but all her eyes found was the stone walls facing her.

 _It came from the wall,_ she thought,her eyes flying wildly from point to point along the structure. But her heart rate slowed quickly and she kept walking, putting distance between herself and the source of the unsettling noise.

 _Don't be daft,_ she told herself, scowling. _It could just have been the pipes. Or Harry under his Cloak._

But Harry had been in the common room twenty minutes earlier, snoring over his overdue Tranfiguration assignment. Coming to the conclusion that it must have been a ghost, Hermione shook her head and refocused her attention on her companions.

"It's awful inside, all pink and frilly," little Anne was saying, shuddering. "My baby sister had a room just like it when she was born except she hates cats and I never went in there if I didn't have to, she was always screaming and crying..."

Hermione patted the second year Hufflepuff's arm. Worry knotted her stomach. "Anne," she said, trying to sound calm, "why did the Headmistress take you to her office?"

"She said she had to ask me some questions? I don't remember; my tummy hurts…"

"That's okay, we'll take you to the Hospital Wing to get you some relief potions in a minute," her friend Cora said, hovering nearby.

"What did she ask you?" Hermione asked.

"She wanted to know if I knew about a secret club in the school," Anne said, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Professor Umbridge gave me some tea and told me to drink it and then asked if I knew if anyone in my House was sneaking out at odd hours. I always go to sleep early because that's what I'm supposed to do at home so I said I didn't know and she was busy all of a sudden and let me go to class but I wasn't feeling well so I came here."

The girls' lavatory came into view and Cora motioned for them to wait, and then ducked inside. Hermione and Anne waited outside anxiously-at least, Anne did-Hermione tried not to show her disquiet to the younger girl. When Cora returned, holding a dampened paper towel, she tenderly pressed it against Anne's forehead.

"You won't give us detention will you?" Cora asked Hermione, wiping her hands on her skirt. "I know we're supposed to have a signed slip but Professor Snape didn't want to sign one for us, he only told us to go before Anne was sick in class."

"I won't," Hermione reassured them, thinking to herself it was lucky she had found them and not anyone else. "I'll take you to the Hospital Wing myself so you won't get into trouble."

The three of them left the girl's lavatory and made off for their destination, which thankfully, wasn't too far away. Hermione called for Madam Pomfrey, who almost immediately found the cause of the sickness.

"I'm afraid this child has been given the Truth Serum," she explained a few minutes later to a horrified Hermione inside her office. The elder woman's mouth straightened into a grim line. "And she isn't the first. I've had four other students come in with the same symptoms to find they have also been given a much stronger dose than is recommended."

"Anne told me she had just come from the Headmistresses' office," Hermione whispered. "Umbridge gave her tea."

"The other students said just the same," Madame Pomfrey said, speaking more softly. Every now and then her eyes darted around the room but her voice maintained its urgency. "If Albus were here I'd have reported it to him immediately but it's only  _her_  now. I told Minerva and she said she already knew, but there was nothing we could do since that Umbridge woman has the approval of the Ministry…"

 _I doubt it,_  Hermione thought.  _They can't possibly allow this._

"I have to go," she said, and rushed from the small room.

* * *

She found both Harry and Ron still inside the common room playing Exploding Snap. Their rolls of parchment were pushed carelessly to the side, only halfway finished.

"Don't drink anything Umbridge gives you," she blurted, trying to catch her breath. They looked up with confused, singed faces.

"What?" Ron asked, and quickly, Hermione sat down relayed everything that had happened before then.

"She's really off her rocker if she thinks she can just feed everyone in the bloody castle that potion and think someone is going to have answers!"

"It's a faulty method," Hermione agreed, "and of highly questionable morale. We've been lucky she hasn't got anyone from the DA so far but it's only a matter of time until she does. We have to tell the others before she gets to them."

* * *

"Blimey," Neville said, looking quite thunderstruck when they reached him. "I almost drank her tea!"

"What do you mean 'almost'?" Harry asked.

"Well I was summoned during Charms this morning and she tells me she wants to talk about my extracurricular activities. I was holding it about to take a sip when Malfoy comes in like he's on fire and I spilled it all down my front. Umbridge was so angry she made me leave; I thought it was just because I broke the cup."

Ron was doubled over with relieved laughter. Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered.

"To think Malfoy saved us all," Ron gasped, "and not even knowing! Merlin, what I'd give to see the look on his face if he knew!"

Neville abruptly turned whiter than a ghost. "Oh, Gods, I nearly gave us all away!"

It took them ten minutes to calm him down.

* * *

"That scheming, vile bitch! I  _knew_  she was up to something," Angelina Johnson seethed later as they walked down to the Quidditch pitch. "She looked only too happy that I was going to drink from her stupid cup. It all felt so off-I was trying to come up with a reason not to drink it when Professor McGonagall burst in, bless her, claiming I had a detention with her I should have been at that very moment. That was a lie, obviously, but I'd have let her imprison me in Azkaban if it meant getting out of that blasted office."

* * *

"Well," Hermione said an hour later when they sat back down in the far recesses of the common room, "now everyone knows, but Umbridge is bound to find that out when we refuse to drink her bloody tea."

"Not everyone is that daft, I'm sure," Harry said, stretching. "They could just pretend to drink, or dump it somewhere when she's got her back turned. It's what I'd do." He took off his glasses to clean the lenses.

"Neville's case was a damn near miracle," Ron said, passing his hand over his face. "The moment he said he'd already seen her I thought we were done for."

"I never thought I'd say this, but thank Merlin for Malfoy and his petty problems," Harry said, grinning.

"I wonder what he was in such a rush about, though," Hermione said. "For him to go running to Umbridge like that…"

"Who cares?" Ron said, offering her and Harry a pick from a bag of sweets he'd pulled out of his pocket. "People like him have always got something to complain about."

"Yes, but he usually goes to Snape for that, doesn't he?" Harry asked. The chocolate frog trapped between his hands croaked feebly before he bit into it. "I've seen him do it before."

"So then why would he go to Umbridge instead?"

"It probably was something to do with the Inquisitorial Squad," Hermione said, suddenly not in the mood for Bertie Bott's anymore.  _It was probably something to do with me._

* * *

"It's a waste of time, is what it is," Pansy was saying as she crossed her arms. "They've all caught on, I'm sure of it. They only go to their classes or their common rooms and never stray. They hardly speak to anyone outside of class or during meals, and even if they do we can never hear what they are saying no matter how close we are. They're one step ahead and we can't catch up."

Draco knew she was right, but not wanting to admit it, frowned and looked away.

"Keep a closer watch," was all he could say. It was the same thing Umbridge told him every time he went to her to complain.

Pansy kicked at a patch of melting ice, and scoffed.  
"To what good? Potter all but disappears in between classes. He knows he is being followed and watched but he doesn't know it's me. We almost never have anything to report to Umbridge anymore, and when we tell her that she gets angry."

"Well she's got to wait if she wants answers. Sooner or later one of them will slip and we'll move from there."

Pansy's jaw jutted out and she looked out at the surrounding landscape moodily, her nose crinkling.

"How fares progress with Hermione?"

"Why do you call her that?" Draco asked, irritated. Pansy gave him a look.

"Why shouldn't I? It's her name after all. I don't have a grudge with her or think her my mortal enemy. Besides," she smiled thinly, "she's not as big a prat as the other two."

"It sounds strange, is all."

"Naturally, since you refuse to use her first name." Letting out a puff of air, she loosed her scarf from around her neck and pushed her fringe away from her eyes tiredly. Faint dark circles marked her dark eyes. Unconsciously, Draco mirrored her.

"You didn't answer my question."

Draco exhaled, watching the cold mist of his breath plume out of his mouth in the chilled air.

"Not well. She refuses to comply and won't say anything. She knows I follow her; always brings the female Weasley with her wherever she goes. Her or the moron Ravenclaw."

"Lovegood?"

"Mm." He exhaled again, let his head fall gently against a column, and felt himself grow colder. The day was so bright his eyes stung.

"Will you try again or have you given up?"

Draco gave her a nasty look. "What makes you think I've given up?"

Pansy shrugged and flicked a strand of hair away from her eyes. "You stopped reporting to Umbridge. There have been three meetings with the I-squad this week but you only came to one."

Draco looked away, frowning. "The meetings are all the same and they occur too often. Besides, there's nothing to report. She goes to class, she eats, and she does what she is supposed to except give me answers."

"You'll try again."

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly and she thumped his shoulder with her fist.

"Are you ever going to get around to interrogating Potter?"

Pansy huffed. "If I ever manage to  _find_  him. I used to see him at least ten times a day, do you know? In between classes and during meals, what have you. Now that I actually have to talk to him he's gone off like a ghost. They know, Draco, I'm telling you. Or at least he does, but he's avoiding me like Trelawny avoids Umbridge."

"No. It has to be all three of them. There's nothing those three won't hide from each other."

"I suppose." She gave him a side-eyed stare. "From what you've told me about your meetings with Granger, you haven't been all that subtle about running into her."

"Why would I? I don't want this "mission" taking any longer than it has to." Draco turned his head to face her, and stood straight again. "As soon as I get the information from the Mudblood, I'm done. I've had enough of her to last me forever."

Pansy smacked him in the shoulder again, and Draco scowled, stepping away from her.

"So it's  _you_  I have to thank for making my job harder! Thanks ever so, you thoughtless beast."

He shot her a glare. "Oh, and you wouldn't have done the same if you were in my place?"

"Actually, no," Pansy said, striding towards the door, nose in the air. "Will you be at the next meeting, or have you already told Potter and his friends what Umbridge is going to do next?"


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

_Where is she?_

Draco walked angrily through the corridor, pushing past the younger years who stupidly remained in his path. Their tiny cries of protest died halfway out of their throats, and they rushed away at the cold expression in his eyes. Panic reared itself in their eyes and they whispered to each other as they fled but none of it reached the taller boy's ears. Draco didn't give them a single glance; his eyes were set on the far end of the hall and once he reached it, turned sharply right, and came to a dead end.

Staying dead center in the middle of the corridor wasn't a good idea-he ducked into a small alcove, heart pounding, flattened himself against the wall, and pulled out a scrap of parchment from a pocket within his robes.

The scrap was worn and crumpled, the lines had faded a little since the day they'd appeared to form a map but his vision was sharp and he read it with no trouble. He was the small black dot standing outside the old History of Magic room, which had been abandoned several centuries before anyone currently attending the school had ever set foot inside it. The small red dot that was her was nowhere to be seen, and therein lied the trouble.

He'd been having a snack in the Slytherin commons when he'd felt the note grow hot in his pocket to signify there was activity on her end, and had all but sprinted from the bowels of the dungeons to the fifth floor. When he'd received the alert her dot had been headed in this direction and vanished shortly after, just a few feet from where he now stood, and Draco's curiosity had been piqued at once.

Why had she disappeared? Had his theory been correct? Would he find the Gryffindor commons here? Or would he finally find the truth behind her lies? Either way, he was buzzing with anticipation. Draco didn't know how long he would have to wait for her to appear-would she even? A frown bent his brow. He hadn't thought this through but he was more than willing to improvise-if ending all this meant hiding out here for a few hours then here he would stay.

Fancying that he could hear some footsteps, he cast a Disillusionment charm over himself-unless it was Granger he didn't have the patience to deal with them. His duties as prefect would have to wait.

It turned out he didn't have to wait much longer. The click of a door being closed as softly as possible was impossible to miss in the otherwise blatant silence of the area, and Draco stood perfectly still, waiting to pounce. There was only one way she could go, and it was in his direction. The shuffle of a robe came next and then rapid footsteps, each leading her closer to him.

Draco waited until she had passed him to catch her, just to make sure it wasn't anyone else. She only made it one step ahead of him, still blissfully unaware before he grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. The shriek that ripped itself from her throat went unheard-he forced his palm over her mouth and bit back a shout as she sank her teeth into his fingers, but in the end he managed to pin her against the wall.

"Who are you?" she hissed once he uncovered her mouth. "Harry?"

"So I was right. It's Potter you pine for."

"Malfoy." Her voice was low with dislike.

Draco ended the concealing spell and smirked. "Granger."

"Would you kindly distance yourself from me?" Her palms found his chest and pushed roughly.

Her discomfort was palpable. Draco decided to use this to his advantage. She had made him wait, after all. Months and months of waiting and frustration for her to give an answer, and he'd had enough. A deep anger he hadn't known he'd been feeling brewed inside him and pushed its way out, as if he'd been unconsciously holding it back all day long.

"And here I was thinking I liked how cozy it is." He braced his arms on either side of her, palms flat against the wall, and brought himself ever closer. She raised her chin, the whites of her eyes showing. Her hands pushed at him again, but he held his ground and didn't budge.

"Back off." Draco had to give her credit. Fear was written in every line of her body but her voice remained firm. Her hands kept him an inch away but Draco leaned in as best as he was able, and saw her pupils contract through the darkness.

His response was simple. "No."

His nose was an inch from hers. Granger met his stare angrily.

"What do you want?"  
The laugh burst out of him unexpectedly and she jumped.

"You know, Granger. Or are you stupider than I thought?"

"I want you to stop following me," she said smoothly. "I want you to  _leave me alone_." Her hands gave another sharp push and Draco felt the force of it in his ribs but held fast.

"I told you I won't do that until I get answers," he replied. "Number one being: What were you doing in that room?"

"Nothing," she said.

Draco smiled and pushed himself closer to her, earning himself a sharp intake of breath from the cornered witch. One more inch and their bodies would have been pressed together.

"You take too many liberties," she said. "Let me go."

Draco leaned down a little more so their eyes were level with each other. His hands slid down the wall to rest around her neck, comfortably loose but every now and then his thumbs brushed against her windpipe and she squirmed.

"I'll scream," she whispered. "Lay a finger on me and you'll regret it."

"All you have to do is tell me what you were doing," he said with a soft sigh, winding a lock of her hair around his finger. "Give me the truth, Granger, and I'll never bother you again. Wizard's Oath."

"It wasn't anything important," she insisted.

Draco's thumb brushed against the nape of her neck; a ghost's touch, but she shivered all the same.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Stop. You're making me uncomfortable." She gave him another shove. The shadows shifted a little and her eyes turned gold in the dim light. The long, dark lashes that framed her eyes almost grazed his nose when he leaned in even closer, his eyes dipped down to her mouth and her lips parted. For some reason the small action held him like a most beautiful illustration and words pushed through the barrier of his lips before he could think twice.

"You've got the loveliest mouth I've ever seen, Granger."

_Where the devil did that come from?_

Draco was more astounded with himself than embarrassed, and so was Granger apparently, though she tried not to show it. Abruptly she shut her mouth and gave him the strangest look, as if he'd begun to tap dance before her. Draco was in no mood to humor her-even he didn't know whether he'd really meant that or just thrown that in to make her more uncomfortable. The words had just slipped out...

His hands cupped her neck now-neither of them had noticed until Granger tried turning her head away and couldn't.

Draco remained silent while she scowled off to the side, thoughts moiling in her eyes. Something shifted and she sighed. Her palms had clenched into fists.

"I was studying, okay? I didn't feel like being in the library so I made myself a study room to do my homework."

Draco almost believed her. Almost. It sounded just like something she'd do, after all, but Draco had spent too much time getting stuck in her webs to fall into this one now.

He drew back, and in a harsher tone, said, "You expect me to believe that when you haven't got your bag on you?"

"I left it in the room," she said, visibly relieved that he was no longer so close. "I was going to the kitchens for some food and was planning to come back later."

"And your wand?"

"In my bag."

He snorted. "You won't forget it next time, will you."

Hermione glared at him. Again, those words.  _Next time._  She had gone through two blissful weeks of no interruptions and had dared to think that Malfoy had given up at last only to end up here again. A huge mistake on her part, one she was keen never to make again but for now only one thing mattered: Malfoy could not enter that room.

"No."

His hands finally left her throat, and she took in a deep breath but a second later he stepped away and out into the corridor, blocking the exit. He gave her a piercing stare and motioned towards the door she had come out from, bringing her attention to his wand.

"Show me."

Hermione tried not to panic. If he took one step inside that room it would all be over, and they would be caught red handed. It was a miracle he had not asked this sooner-as awful and strange as the interlude in the alcove had been it must have lasted long enough to let everyone inside know that something had gone wrong, and she hoped beyond all hope that they had taken action by now. If not, Malfoy would undoubtedly have the best day of his life in getting to hand them over to Umbridge.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," she said. "Let me nick something from the kitchens and then I'll come back."

His mouth twisted into a wry smile; he pulled a green apple from within his robes and offered it to her.

"Wouldn't want you starving, would we."

The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes, he was all but congratulating himself.

Dread took over her.  _He knows._

She was grasping for more time, that much was obvious. Draco offered her the apple again, and she reached out tentatively.

"Take me to your study," he said. "I'm eager to see it."

She took the apple and turned, rallying her wits about her. By now the DA should have evacuated the room as protocol demanded and she felt her confidence return to herself.

If not, then Malfoy would be heavily outnumbered and she would relish seeing the look on his face before she Obliviated him. A part of herself was mildly shocked that she would do such a thing but he had more than earned it-that and much more.

Besides, desperate measures, and all that.

The door creaked loudly as she opened it and walked inside to reveal an empty room, to her satisfaction-and regret.

Malfoy followed behind her, his sharp eyes taking in everything, from the books along the walls to the number of chairs. Hermione glanced at a certain part of the farthest wall, where the DA often hung up their signed parchment-thankfully, someone had had the foresight to take it down-she wondered whom she was to thank.

"You need such a large place to study?"

Hermione willed her heart to stop beating so loudly. "Open places help me think."

"Where's your bag?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "What, are you going to search me?"

"Do you have something to hide?" His tone had grown meaner. Her hand tightened around the apple, bruising its flesh.

She grit her teeth. "No."

"Then bring me your bag."

Hermione found it and brought it to him, slamming it down onto the table.

He took his time, leafing through her books and parchments, as if he thought she was stupid enough to leave her most important documents unconcealed. For once, Hermione was pleased by his ignorance. Remembering her hunger, she bit into the apple with a sharp crack. Malfoy looked back at her, barely hiding his temper, and she arched her brow at him, gesturing with the apple to move him along. He stiffened with anger and began to search the smaller pockets within her schoolbag.

"Don't be alarmed at my feminine products," she added casually when he paused after unzipping a certain pocket. To hide her smile she bit into the apple again and watched as he calmly closed it and stood there a moment without saying a word.

"Have you finished?" she asked. "I'm really quite hungry and this apple hasn't helped much." She tossed the core into the bin neatly, where it landed with a metallic clang, and the sound woke him-he turned and advanced towards her, his face twisted in fury.

"You're  _lying_ ," he hissed into her face.

Hermione contrived to look surprised.

"Am I?" She put her hands on her hips. "You'd think a girl would know hunger when she felt it."

His hand lashed out again, wrapped around her throat, pushed her back into the wall. There were no barely there touches now-his fingers sought and dug into her windpipe.

"This is hardly fair," she managed to say, glaring at him. "Let me get my wand and we'll fight on a more even ground."

She was sick to death of him pushing her around like this. Having gone so long without a chance to properly fight back, it was all she wanted now, Umbridge be damned. Malfoy was going to learn tonight that she'd had enough.

This only made him angrier, and he slammed his palm into the wall. Hermione tried not to flinch.

" _Vermin_ ," he called her. "That's all you are, Mudblood. Everyone might think you're such a saint but all I see is garbage."

"I don't care what you think," she hissed back, and his face contorted with rage. His hands squeezed her throat harder.

"I'm going to  _break_  you," he breathed. "I promise it."

"Mr. Malfoy!" Came an outraged cry from the door. "Release Ms. Granger at once!"

Draco let her go immediately and they both turned to face the stranger. Hermione's hands massaged her own throat and she coughed.

Professor McGonagall stood at the door with her wand drawn and a look of such fury on her face that rivaled Draco's from mere moments beforehand.

"How dare you assault another student!" She strode up to Malfoy, nostrils flared and cheeks red with anger, and collected his wand with a nonverbal  _Accio_. "To use such mindless violence like a coward!"

Draco glared at her. "I'm under orders from the Headmistress, Professor. Granger provoked me."

"That does not excuse your atrocious behavior, Mr. Malfoy. One hundred points from Slytherin for assaulting another student." She let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Never in all my years have I seen such brutality in a student. This may call for expulsion."  
Malfoy said nothing in response and Hermione's heart soared.

McGonagall touched her shoulder. "Ms. Granger, are you well?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Are you sure?" McGonagall scrutinized the marks around her throat. The lines around her mouth deepened.

"Yes."

"Did Mr. Malfoy do anything else?"

"Nothing to this caliber, Professor."

"Very well. I'll have Poppy send you some potions. We will speak tomorrow," She looked to Draco, her eyes so cold they could have frozen the whole room. "Follow me."

Hermione watched them leave, unsure if she should go along too. McGonagall left first and Draco followed, but not before turning to look at Hermione. She thought he would have glared, or maintained his enraged expression, but his face was almost blank, which was worse. He looked at her with nothing but contempt in his eyes, and inclined his head towards her, a message flashed urgently in his eyes, only for her. A chill ran down her back as Hermione understood his meaning at once, and remained motionless, careful not to spur him on again.

 _I'm going to break you,_ he'd said. That look he'd given her just now had cemented his promise.

Hermione fought off the uneasiness and stared back defiantly until he turned and left. Even after being caught he thought he still had the upper hand.

 _Good luck coming through on that promise when you're kicked out of school,_  she thought haughtily.

It was lucky McGonagall had found them when she did-Malfoy's volatile attitude unnerved her very much, and she'd been on the verge of poking hard at his eyes so she'd have a chance to run to her wand. It was a miracle Umbridge hadn't found them either, or things really would have become worse.

 _She's going to find out anyway,_  Hermione thought angrily as she gathered her things and left the room quickly, headed for the Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron had to be informed.

The Gryffindor commons were empty when she entered them. Hermione looked around, frowning. She let her bag slide off her shoulder to land hard on the floor, and walked around a little, checking her wristwatch.

_Oh, no wonder. Dinner's almost over. Did I really take that long?_

She hoped Ron and Harry would bring her some food-she was feeling oddly drained; the trek to the kitchens felt like too much work, so she sat down in her favorite armchair and decided to wait.

She must have fallen asleep, because what felt like a minute later (and it might as well have been) someone was shaking her shoulder gently to wake her up.

"Wake up, Hermione," Ron was saying.

She opened her eyes and let out a breath, sitting straighter in the chair. Harry and Ron stood before her.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked. "You were gone for too long so we left; we thought maybe Umbridge had found you."

"After everyone left we snuck by the old toad's office to see if we could get you out but there wasn't anyone in there," Ron added. "We worried."

"We need to talk in private," Hermione said, looking around them. Everyone else was arriving from dinner, chatting amiably and lounging around the area. What she had to say was serious and she could easily be overheard here, and she didn't feel like sharing the news with everyone.

Quickly, the three of them made their way to the most secluded corner, and Hermione wasted no time in telling them everything that had happened earlier. Ron brought out a small parcel from his schoolbag, which turned out to be a load of food he'd pilfered from the dinner table, and famished, Hermione ate while they reacted to her news.

"You're not hurt, then?" Harry asked intently.

"Aside from a sore throat, no."

"I always said he was a coward, didn't I?" Ron said, "He always thought he was so great and then he pulls shit like this. I wish I could have thrown one punch in, I'd die happy."

Hermione smiled ruefully. "Perhaps, if we ever see him again. But that won't be for a long time."

"McGonagall hasn't called for you yet?"

"No."

"We didn't notice she was gone until after dinner, when she came into the Great Hall to talk to Umbridge."

"To think," Ron said with relish, "Malfoy could be leaving Hogwarts this very moment. I won't miss him, that's for certain."  
"Nor I," Hermione agreed, then put down the roll of bread she'd been pinching at. "I'm only worried that Umbridge is going to twist this around somehow so it's all my fault."

"She can't," Ron said angrily. "Not when McGonagall's involved. There's no way."

"I know, but I just keep thinking how Malfoy's her favorite student and how powerful his father is-we all know they've pulled strings before-who's to say they won't do it again?"

"Why don't we go see McGonagall now?" Ron suggested.

"Can't," Hermione said. "There's a curfew now, remember?"

"But we've got the Cloak!"

"Look," Hermione said wearily. "It's been a long day and Professor McGonagall will still be here tomorrow. We'll see her after class, alright?"

"Sounds good," Harry said, and they all stood. Hermione brushed a crumb off her lap.

"We can go to the hospital wing right now and get your neck looked at," Harry told her, eyeing the bruises.

"I can heal these on my own," she said, covering them with her hair. "Madam Pomfrey was to send me some potions-I should go check." She bid them goodnight and climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories. The potions were on her bedside table-she took them quickly and rushed to take a bath, wanting to drain the exhaustion from herself with hot water. When she emerged she felt instantly better, especially after healing the bruises, and she crawled into her bed already feeling the prospects of the next day being a good one, or at the very least better than this one had been now that Malfoy was out of her way.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

The next morning Hermione woke up earlier than usual, still feeling fatigued from the events of the day before. For a moment she gave herself over to the possibility of sleeping in, and she lied back down and wrapped herself in her heavy blankets but was unable to go back to sleep again. As she showered and dressed Hermione wondered what she would do first: find Harry and Ron or go to breakfast? It was extremely likely that Harry and Ron were not awake yet-on weekends those two always slept in until the afternoon unless there was a DA meeting or Quidditch practice. Breakfast was always open as early as five in the morning and it was half past now, so she decided to go nick some food before Umbridge arrived, then climb back up to the tower and get some more sleep before joining up with Harry and Ron, and then go see Professor McGonagall.

The dreamless sleep potion had done its job, she'd slept long and without interruption, but now, as she quietly made her way out of the dorms and through the common room she was left alone with her doubts. The fire danced cheerily in the hearth and the smell of pine cones and cinnamon pervaded the air but Hermione felt no comfort in it, instead focusing on how dry her throat felt as she climbed out the entrance.

Normally at this time on weekdays there'd be a few other early risers also making their way down to the great hall but as it was a frigid Saturday in February the whole castle seemed to have made a collective decision to sleep in that morning. Pale sunlight streamed in from the nearest window, dappled with the shadows of clouds and she could hear birds chirping outside in the chilled air, but there was nothing cheery about the day.

As she came neared the great hall she passed through the corridor where all Umbridge's decrees were framed along the wall. At the start of her rule they had been put up neatly, but as the resistance grew so did the number of decrees and the rate at which she issued them so now the wall was crammed from top to bottom with the black frames, each holding one of the many dreadful papers. A number of them had been vandalized with non-removable ink so Filch might not scrub it off. Just the other day she'd overheard a fourth year Slytherin mutter something to his friend about wanting to smash them all with his Beater's club, but had promptly ceased talking once he'd caught sight of the caretaker lurking nearby. Both he and his friend were members of the DA but she only knew them by sight-he'd given her a quick, inquisitive glance and she knew his question but gave a small shake of her head and he turned away.

Now, Hermione stared up at the newest Educational Decree, her eyes narrowed.

**Any student being questioned** ** must ** **give spoken answers during interviews. The withholding of information is hereby punishable by detention with the High Inquisitor.**

_He got tired of my silence_ , she thought _. Did he give Umbridge the idea for this one before or after he was expelled?_ Uneasily, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. There were still ways to get around this newest rule, but time was running out and sooner or later there would be no way to run.

 _If anything, I'm grateful he didn't try giving me the Veritaserum,_ she thought, and walked down to the Great Hall. It was a greater relief that she would not have to face him again.

* * *

Draco ran a hand through his hair, wishing his headache away to no effect. His eyes felt dry and his lids dangerously heavy-how long had he slept? Not enough, apparently. The cold dregs of anger from the night before lied deep within him, coiled like a snake and ready to strike at the slightest provocation. He'd brushed his teeth, taken a shower and gotten dressed with the events of the night before weighing over him like a heavy mantle.

After he'd been taken from the Mudblood McGonagall had dragged him down to her office to berate him so loudly and for so long he had watched the sun descend and the moon begin to rise from the window behind her. The old bird had threatened to strip him of all privileges, first being his Prefect status and the next his Inquisitor badge. Draco had been too angry to speak until Umbridge appeared in the doorway smiling that hideous smile.

McGonagall had been preparing to write to his father to inform him of his son's expulsion, and had assured the Headmistress with the coldest tones that the matter was under hand and didn't she have other things to attend to?

Umbridge had assured her she would take care of the matter and write the letter herself, and before the wizened Professor could so much as dock another fifty points from Slytherin they both had left her office.

Draco didn't like that now he ought to feel grateful towards Umbridge. Granted, she herself had given him a long lecture, full of stressed words and reminders that he had to continue going to the I-squad meetings. He'd thanked her stiffly when she said she would keep this from his record and more importantly, his father. He didn't like feeling grateful towards  _anyone_ , much less this foul pink woman, regardless of the privileges she gave him and his House.

He could well imagine the harsh words his father would have given him had he been informed. Muggleborn or not, it was a fault of character and discipline to attack others in that manner, like he was a brute out of the Dark Ages. His own father, who had been in  _plenty_  of altercations in his time at Hogwarts and had been known for acts more violent towards the lesser pure, although those had been outside of school and he had never been caught. It was laughable that this was the man who so strongly advised him to keep his temper, but there was a grain of truth in his warnings: Draco knew he had been too heedless in the past, and resolved now to take more care in his actions. Umbridge had stressed this too and he knew if he didn't want to be caught again it was best to listen. He didn't care to be caught again _._

All the same, he had been dangerously close to losing everything and he would not forget that, nor who had put him in that position to begin with. He had awoken with a strange sense of urgency pulling at him and he had followed it, instantly forgetting his exhaustion.

Now normally, he never went to breakfast. Draco valued an extra two hours of sleep more than a few crumbs of toast, but today something had compelled him to rise at this ungodly hour and make way to the food. Something stirred in his stomach; he wasn't sure if it was hunger or that very same anger. It was too early to tell.

Despite the hour his mind felt remarkably clear. Each step energized him a little more, strangely, and he found himself wondering with malicious eagerness what expression her face would take when she saw he was still here. Most people loved a good surprise-he would find out today whether Granger was one of them.

The second he settled down at his usual place he realized exactly why he had been driven there.

 _The early bird gets the worm_ , he thought, laughing softly to himself. Still smiling, he reached for a green apple and a plate of french toast.

* * *

Hermione saw him enter and froze.

Malfoy didn't spare her a glance; the ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips as he filled his plate and Hermione's mind faltered.

_I was right._

_Harry and Ron said it wasn't likely to happen but I'm always right, aren't I?_ A ghostly pressure squeezed at her neck and it was all she could do not to bolt up from the table and leave the room.

She hadn't realized she was still staring at him. Their gazes had locked and when she came out of her thoughts he was staring at her, all traces of cheer gone from his face. His face may as well have been carved from an iceberg for the coldness it contained. Hermione gripped her knife harder in her hand and glared back.

_You're supposed to be gone._

Still maintaining eye contact with her, he raised his apple to his mouth and bit into it. Hermione could hear the crunch although she sat two tables away. The sound made her blink, and then her eyes fell onto her plate, appetite gone.

It was lucky Umbridge wasn't here. If that woman had a grudge with her before what would she do now that Hermione had trifled with her favorite student and almost got him kicked out of the school?

 _It just goes to show how I don't matter to them,_  she thought. _I could die in this school and they would call it a victory._

Suddenly she felt sick, and worse, like she might cry. She couldn't bear the thought of Malfoy watching so Hermione began to rise from the table but sat back down before she had raised herself up an inch.

His eyes were still on her, she could feel it. Hermione frowned into her pumpkin juice.

_I won't let him see. I won't. He hasn't won._

She would wait, then. She had come for the post and would stay until it came unless she lost her nerve. It had been days and days and there still had been no reply from Mr. Weasley, which was unsettling. Ron had carefully worded the letter under her guidance so Umbridge would not obtain anything from it, but why was it taking so long? They knew Harry's mail was being intercepted, but was it happening to everyone else, too? Could she be keeping their mail from them?

A cold shiver made its way down her back. None of them had thought of this-what if it was true? Gods, they could all be done for right now and not have a clue. Was Harry still writing to Sirius? Pseudonym or not, Sirius would be in grave danger if Umbridge ever came into contact with one of his or Harry's letters. She had to warn Harry.

Throughout this disturbing thought process Malfoy remained constant in the background, eating that blasted apple. In the silence of the great room she heard it as if he ate it right next to her ear.

 _Perhaps he_ _ **was**_ _expelled, and he's here only for breakfast before leaving,_  a weak, hopeful voice whispered to her. Hermione wished she could believe it.

More students were trickling into the room, yawning, chatting quietly. Hermione forced herself to stay still. None of the staff was in yet-not even Hagrid, who was an early riser just like her. Hermione frowned, remembering how badly his class inspection had gone. It would have to be quick, due to the new curfew, but she, Harry and Ron would need to visit him after seeing McGonagall.

The four long tables began filling up, and Hermione waited in vain for Harry and Ron. She chanced another look at Malfoy. Though appearing to be relaxed and enjoying his breakfast, his posture was stiff and taught, his eyes not quite focused on the task of cutting his food.

 _He's waiting for me to make a move,_  she thought dismally. His threat from the night before came to her again, and she resisted the urge to rub at her temples.

_If I go now there's better chance of him catching me. I'll go later, when there are more people to distract him._

Feigning indifference, Hermione buttered another piece of toast slowly, keeping her eyes trained on her knife where she caught the reflection of her own eyes in the small space that was left clean. Those eyes looked worried. Hermione cursed inwardly and took a deep breath, and then another, feeling the tension drain away from her facial muscles.

_Good._

If only she had something to read…How much longer until the post came? Was it worth it to keep waiting for Harry and Ron?

_**CRUNCH** _ _crunchcrunchcrunchcrunch_

His eyes were on her again. Ignoring the slight shake in her hands she put the knife down carefully and tore the slice in half, dropping one onto her plate. As she chewed on the initial mouthful, she reached down the length of the table and brought the platter of eggs closer to herself.

How much did she want? She didn't know, but she served herself a hearty portion. The bright chrome yellow of the yolk stole her attention; she didn't look away from the eggs as she pierced them with her fork. Lost in her confusion and doubt, the food had no taste but she kept eating for the sake of something to do.

_**CRUNCH** _ _crunchcrunchcrunchcrunch_

Even more students were coming in. Good. It was a whole drove of them, just flooding in, and that was spectacular. The empty space around them was filled with noise suddenly, and it was a relief. Hermione swallowed, took a swig of juice, and took another forkful of eggs.

"Morning!"

It was Ginny. Hermione smiled at her through her food, thankful for another distraction from the one who sat across the room.

"Morning."

Now it was Ron, Harry and Neville. Hermione tried not to show too much relief when she greeted them. Seamus and Dean followed closely behind, already arguing about something like they did every morning but Hermione didn't care because when they all sat down she couldn't see Malfoy anymore and she swallowed hard.

"I swear," Ron said, piling his plate with eggs and bacon, "if Snape assigns us any more essays this week I'm going to take his wand and shove it up his-er, morning..."

Madame Hooch eyed them suspiciously as she moved down the length of the aisle.

Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Ron, didn't you learn last time? Watch what you say!"

Good, she was herself again-only she suddenly felt exhausted. Hermione wiped her mouth with a napkin while glancing around the room quickly without listening to Ron's reply. The room was occupied enough. She glanced at the Slytherin table-Pansy Parkinson had sat down next to Draco and was in the midst of telling him something. It was time to move.

"I'm going back to bed," she said, but not loud enough for her voice to carry over to the other tables. She had been here long enough-any more time and Malfoy would know she was stalling. Ron would receive the letter, if it came. Waving goodbye, she got up and left swiftly before the others could say anything.

His eyes followed her as she left, and he took a last bite of his apple.

Hermione's heart was pounding. Her nerves felt frayed and raw. Hermione pressed the back of her hand against her forehead as she walked quickly to the Gryffindor tower. Her skin felt feverish.

_I need sleep, I don't get enough as it is... Should have listened to Harry and Ron…study too much…_

_**CRUNCH** _ _crunchcrunchcrunchcrunch_

Hermione whirled around, reaching for her wand.

_I should have had it in my hand this whole time. Stupid, stupid._

"Good morning!" piped Professor Flitwick, biting into an apple bigger than his open hand as he walked past her. Hermione shoved her wand back into her pocket and forced a cheerful reply from her mouth before turning and walking at a faster pace than before.

_I'm jumping at the slightest things. I really do need rest._

She listened keenly for footsteps behind her but was met with nothing. Somehow, even that was not comforting. Along the way to the Gryffindor tower she encountered other peers, headed for breakfast but after a certain point it was just her alone in the corridor so she quickened her pace.

_Keep going, keep going._

Just as she came into sight of the Fat Lady's portrait, something pushed into her swiftly, knocking her off course so that she accidentally turned into the wrong corridor. Stumbling, trying not to fall, Hermione had no thought to scream. Two horrifyingly familiar hands wrapped around her arms and steered her into the nearest alcove, where they backed her against the wall roughly and his forearm was brought up across her neck, forcing her head up. Hermione tried pushing him away, tried bringing his arms away from her. He shook off her efforts and pressed his arm deeper into her throat. Understanding his meaning, she stopped. 

Her heart hammered wildly as their gazes locked and she immediately reached for her wand, a curse waiting on her lips. He didn't speak but his cold eyes were boring into hers with an untamed fury.

"You're supposed to be  _gone_ ," she hissed, wincing.

"You know how I love proving you wrong," he replied softly. "I couldn't just give that up."

"It wasn't your choice!" she spat. "You were going to be expelled!"

"Umbridge didn't think that was necessary," he gave a cold shrug. "Who am I to argue?"

"Let me go or-"

"-Or what?" he gave a harsh laugh. "You'll get me expelled again? You've seen what happens, Granger. _It doesn't work._ "

Hermione thought she had an advantage with her hidden wand but was proved wrong when his hand crushed her wrist so hard she was forced to let it go. it fell to the floor. She couldn't hear the clatter it made over the sound of her own frenzied heartbeat.

"That isn't wise," he said, his voice oddly tender. "You've already made me very, very angry, Granger, and it would not do to add to that just now."

"Don't you dare order me about," she hissed. "My mere existence seems to make you angry. What do you want me to do, die?"

He smiled thinly.

Though she had already let go of her wand his hand remained wrapped around her wrist and he increased the pressure until she cried out.

"Stop!"

He let her go then-not abruptly as in the previous occasions but slowly, releasing pressure little by little until his hand fell away from hers at last and she raised hers to try to push his arm from her neck.

"There's no use," he said quietly. "You can't escape me forever, sweetheart. I'm warning you now because you seem to think you're above me. I will catch you, and you  _will_  pay."

Hermione froze at his words, and looked at him angrily.

"You'll never get anything from me."

Draco raised his hand and she flinched, but he only brushed her cheek with his fingers gently.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he whispered, and then he pulled back. Immediately Hermione reached for her wand, which was on the ground but he stepped on it with his foot-she felt a sharp breath escape her at once and her stomach drop down to her toes but he didn't break it. Fingers lifted her chin up to meet his eyes and she gave him her most defiant look but he appeared unfazed, and leaned forward. Hermione at once began to recoil, fearing the worst, but he had been aiming somewhere else.

His lips brushed against some loose tendrils of her hair as he spoke beside her ear.

"I'm going to watch you  _burn_ ," he whispered, and then he was gone.

The second the corridor was clear Hermione rushed into the Gryffindor commons and made a beeline for the lavatory. Her breakfast was rising fast in her throat and she locked herself into the stall, falling onto her knees to grasp the toilet bowl as she heaved the contents of her stomach into it. For ten miserable minutes she remained there, spent and aching all over, still feeling his arm against her throat, blocking her airflow and it didn't go away until another ten minutes had passed. Hermione cleaned up quickly and exited the room, heading straight to her bed.

She didn't know how long she slept for, but it felt like it was only seconds later that someone was shaking her awake.

"Hermione?"

It was Parvati, Hermione realized after she shot up, panicked again.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied faintly.

"You look ill," Parvati said, looking worried. "Are you sure?"

"I had a bad breakfast," Hermione said, trying to smile.

"Harry and Ron are looking for you," Parvati said. "They're waiting at the bottom of the steps."

"Okay, thanks," Hermione said, and stood slowly from the bed, and went to brush her teeth. When she came out Parvati was rummaging through her trunk for something.

"Parvati, has Umbridge tried questioning you yet?"

"No," she said. "I do worry about it, though. Just yesterday she called in Padma, you know."

Hermione felt her insides twist. "What happened?"

"Nothing, thankfully, but at the time we thought we were done for. Padma says she gave her the tea and she was trying to think of a way to get rid of it without drinking, but it's a challenge when you're sitting right there in front of her, but McGonagall got to her too, and while Umbridge was distracted she dipped her sleeve into it to make it look like she drank some."

"That's genius," Hermione remarked, and Parvati smiled.

"We do have Professor McGonagall to thank, too. If it wasn't for her the DA would have been found out ages ago."

"You're right," Hermione said. "Thanks for letting me know."

As she made her way down the stairs Hermione found herself feeling slightly better than she had before. The conversation hadn't been enough to quell all her fears but she still felt a tiny bit reassured that they had some help from their Head of House. Professor Dumbledore must have told her about the DA, then, but did she know everyone who was in the group? Another thought that hadn't occurred to her. Hermione needed to go see her.

The windows she passed by showed the night sky-so her nap had been a long one after all.

She met the boys at the end of the stairs.

"Merlin, Hermione, you don't look well," Ron said.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

Hermione beckoned for them to follow her, and walked right out of the commons and to the second floor, towards McGonagall's office. Along the way she filled them in on what had happened that morning.

Ron's whole face turned red. "I could kill him right now."

"Watch your words," she hissed, looking around them, but there was no one in sight. Actually, it was quite curious. Curfew wasn't for another hour and a half-normally there'd be other students milling about in the corridors at this time. "Didn't you see him? He was there when you entered the great hall."

"He must have left before you did, or at the same time," Harry said.

"Isn't there something we could do to get him out for sure?" Ron asked. "Couldn't we get all the teachers to do it, or write to someone?"

"Who?" Hermione asked. "Who in the Ministry would want to help us? Remember, someone attacked your father there-do you think they would come rushing to our aid? Lucius Malfoy's prominent there-he'll find a way to shut us up."

"I don't care, I don't care," Ron said stubbornly. "We can't just let this happen. He can't make threats like that!"

"You were right, Hermione," Harry said, "looks like Umbridge put her wand in before Malfoy got sent packing."

"I'm sure of it," she said, "but that's not the only reason I need to see Professor McGonagall."

Quickly, and barely speaking above a whisper, she relayed to them what she had figured out in the morning.

"I haven't written to Sirius since October," Harry said. "I'm sure she didn't start going through my post until November but the last thing we talked about was Quidditch."

"Good," she said. "Don't write to him again, even if he writes you first. Anything leading back to him can get him caught. Ron, did your father send a reply yet?"

"No," Ron admitted. "He's usually very quick about replying back-I don't know what's going on."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they're keeping our mail," Hermione said. "I just hope we coded it well enough."

They reached McGonagall's office at last. The door was ajar, and Hermione pushed it open.

The lights were on but there was no one inside. A chair positioned close to the front of the desk suggested someone had been to see their Head of House before them, and Hermione could easily guess why. An overturned bowl lay on the floor, and beneath it a dark spot on the carpet. Hermione crouched down, touched her fingers to it, and brought them to her nose.

"It's Essence of Dittany."

"Umbridge banned the staff from helping us," Harry said. "Why leave it there where anyone can see?"

"Maybe she had other things to think about," Ron said quietly, and pointed out the door, where they could easily hear more than one person running in their direction. Hermione whipped out her wand and got rid of the evidence. The three of them quickly exited the room in time to almost collide into Neville, Parvati and Lavender, who looked upset.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" Lavender asked.

"She's not here," Ron said.

"They're attacking Hagrid!" Neville said urgently, a touch of panic in his voice, and Harry went pale.

"What?"  
"I was just outside, talking to Professor Sprout about my Mimbulus Mimbletonia and we saw Umbridge shouting at Hagrid, there were other people there, I couldn't see who it was-"

"We visited Hagrid to learn more about the Unicorn," Lavender broke in, "and we heard Umbridge say to Hagrid she was there to sack him, and she called him all sorts of awful names and then they starting attacking him!"

More students were running past them in the hall, having heard the news and anxious to see what was happening now.

"Merlin," Ron said weakly.

"Did you look for McGonagall in the common room?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, but she's not there either!"

"Let's go," Harry said, and they all ran as fast as they could to the main entrance.

When they arrived there was already a crowd forming by Hagrid's hut. Hermione saw the light from the hexes being thrown and she cried out in horror.

They could barely make out Umbridge, discernible in the dark by her obscenely pink coat and the silly ribboned hat she wore, shouting something unintelligible through the mess of sound.

"This is absolutely outrageous!" They turned to see Professor Sprout, who was pushing through the mass to get to the commotion. "Have you all gone mad? What are you doing?"

Professor McGonagall was already at the scene, shouting for them to put down their wands, but in response they sent her a barrage of hexes, which she blocked immediately. Fang began to howl.

Hagrid bore the brunt of attacks well; most seemed to glance off him but it was clear he was having trouble getting away from them. Fang guarded him fiercely, succeeding in knocking down one attacker who got too close, but then a hex hit him and he fell with a whine that pierced their ears. Lavender screamed. Hagrid shouted something at Umbridge and quickly picked up Fang, At once Harry lunged forward to go to his aid but Hermione had to hold him back.

"Don't! You'll get hurt!" she screamed.

Most of the staff had joined the crowd except for Snape, who was nowhere to be seen. Professor Trewlawney appeared drunk, but still looked appalled at the scene. Professor Flitwick pushed through the crowd, almost disappearing into the snow but still shouting for them to stop the attack. Professor Sprout had already reached them and had stunned two of the attackers, who turned out to be Ministry officials. Madame Hooch, Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector were occupied in holding the students back.

"Get back inside the school!" they kept repeating, but no one paid them any attention.

"Someone must get Dumbledore!" Professor Trewlawney said, and hiccuped.

Harry was shouting, trying to twist out of Hermione's hold but with Ron's help they held him back. It was hard for Hermione to see through her tears. Ron himself looked stricken.

"HAGRID!" Harry shouted. "HAGRID!"

There was another commotion nearby. Hermione turned to see Professor McGonagall Stun one of the Ministry Officials and then block a hex from another. Hagrid was backing into the woods, brandishing his pink umbrella, still carrying Fang over his shoulder. McGonagall had made her way to Hagrid, and appeared to be telling him something urgently. Umbridge issued a command and suddenly there were four jets of red light, four Stunners, streaking through the air while McGonagall still had her back turned. Hagrid turned, fled into the Forbidden Forest, and McGonagall turned, her mouth open, about to speak, when the hexes hit her square in the chest.

There was a collective scream from the students; Hermione gasped, and they watched as Professor McGonagall crumpled to the ground. Professor Sprout reached her at once and raised her wand to the air. A silvery figure leapt into the night sky and took off; a bright streak among the stars-Hermione could only guess she had called for St. Mungo's. Harry tore out of her grip at last and they were running to where Hagrid had been. Umbridge was nowhere to be found. The Ministry Officials had fled, even the ones who had been Stunned were gone.

They approached Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick, who had managed to position Professor McGonagall more comfortably than the way she had fallen and now she lay on her back, wand still clenched in one hand. Professor Sprout had elevated McGonagall's head to rest on her lap so she would not lie in the snow entirely. Her hat had fallen off somewhere in the dark. Professor Flitwick summoned it silently, and anxiously twisted it between his hands. His beard quivered.

Hermione held her hands to her mouth. "Will she be okay?" Ron asked, and both the Professors finally noticed them.

"Get back inside to your dorms," Professor Sprout said sternly. "Go now! Don't do  _anything_  else! Get to bed!"

The rest of the staff was already herding the rest of the students back into the castle, who seemed reluctant to do so.

"Where's Umbridge?" someone cried.

Lee Jordan's voice was the clearest from years of commentating. "She's a coward to outnumber him like that!"

"Have her arrested!" said another, smaller voice.

Fear had sobered Professor Trewlawney. Her enormous eyes were still stuck to the forest, where Umbridge had disappeared, and she held one of her many pendants close to her heart. "Keep your voices down, my dears," she warned. No one listened to her.

The three of them lingered at the end of the group going back into the castle. From the steps they could see an Emergency Team from St. Mungo's had already arrived, a stretcher floating between them.

"Gods," Hermione whispered, shaking. "What's next?" She looked at Harry. "What do we do now?"  
"I don't know," Harry said blankly.

The common room was crowded, as if their House had won the Quidditch Cup but there wasn't a single smile to be seen. The mood was ominous, tense. Some students were crying, but no one dared speak as they gathered into little clusters along the floor.

Neville and Ginny made their way to them the moment they climbed through the portrait entrance. They all made their way to the last available space, the farthest from the fire and the darkest. Too agitated to sit, Ron leaned against the wall. Hermione sat and clutched a throw pillow to herself, still shaking. Harry dropped down beside her and Neville and Ginny followed suit immediately.

"What are we going to do?" Ginny asked at once, looking expectantly at Harry.

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Well we've got to do something," she insisted, looking more afraid than she had before. "We can't just let Umbridge pick off everyone like this, we can't."

"Are we going to meet up again soon?" Neville asked in a whisper.

" _I don't know_ ," Harry snapped. " _Just leave off!_ "

He regretted his tone the moment he opened his mouth. Everyone fell quiet and looked away, too drained to argue. It was true that he had no idea what to do, but more than anything he wanted to have an exact plan, already formed and ready to execute but the infuriating truth was that he had nothing, and he felt awful for it. No one had seen this coming-well, they'd all known Umbridge's hatred for Hagrid had turned her hand to putting him under probation, and knew she wanted to have him gone from the school, but not like this.

They'd thought things couldn't get much worse before but that had only been the beginning. What would they do without McGonagall? The most invaluable of Professors and now she was gone indefinitely. Each time they'd been close to being found out she'd saved them and they'd never thanked her for it. Harry's scar burned quite terribly but he stopped himself from rubbing it, knowing Hermione would hone in on his feelings at once. Could the DA even continue at this point? It would be nearly impossible now that Umbridge had her fat hands around all their necks. He felt without a doubt that their luck had run out. To tempt fate even more would only be asking to be discovered.

He just didn't know what to do, and it was frightening. Being part of the DA had given them all a sense of purpose, a sense of hope that what they were doing could actually make a difference but what had they done tonight? Nothing. He understood now why Hermione and Ron had held him back from intervening but still felt shame for not doing anything, and wished he had done so anyway. Did Dumbledore know what had happened today? Would he know where to find Hagrid?

"I'm sorry," he said quietly to the others, and they relaxed a little. "I just-feel lost."

There was no need to agree. The anger everyone had felt earlier had died down into embers, waiting to flare up come morning but at that moment, in the dead of night the confusion they all felt was most prevalent.

Neville looked down at the floor. Ginny rubbed his arm. "Tonight's been hell," he said softly, and she nodded, then looked at Harry again.

"We can't meet anymore, can we?" she whispered, and he shook his head. Neville looked more upset than he'd ever seen him.

"Not for a while," he said, just to reassure him, but even Neville wasn't one to fall for such an obvious lie.

For a while they kept the silence, each mulling in their own thoughts, slowly falling into the clutches of worried slumber. All the others in the common room had either fallen asleep or remained huddled in silence like them.

He turned to face his friends. Ron had his eyes closed but was not snoring yet. Hermione's eyes caught his and they looked at each other silently. What little of the firelight they caught glittered in her eyes, which were frowning. Carefully, she leaned into him and he adjusted so his elbow would not dig into her stomach, but as he looked down she looked pointedly at his scar, then at him, her eyes turning more serious. Harry said nothing, but she took his hand and squeezed it softly, and didn't let go, drawing it onto her lap to cover it with her other hand. On her right, Ron finally slid down to sit, and leaned against her, and she linked her arm through his. Through the darkness he could barely make out Ginny, who was already half asleep, nodding off into Nevile's shoulder, who was leaning into the back of the armchair behind him.

"Are you okay?" Hermione whispered.

"Are  _you_?"

"No."

Her hands were cold, he realized. Was she still thinking of Malfoy's threats? "Do you need the Cloak?"

"No. Maybe."

"Take it," he said. "

"How will that help?" she asked wearily, sighing. "He's still going to be angry, and I don't want him to know I'm afraid. I mean I'm not-not really-I just don't want to have to resort to hiding."

"I understand that," Harry said. "I just wish I didn't have to wear it all the time."

"We'll figure something out," she said. "I can teach you a better Disillusionment charm, if you like."

"It's still hiding."

"You know why you have to do it," she said, and he went silent for a moment.

"First Dumbledore, then Hagrid and McGonagall. Who will she try to get rid of next?"

"I'm worried she won't like that I'll have been involved with Malfoy's almost expulsion," she said on the barest of whispers. "And now with Professor McGonagall gone there's nothing to stop her from getting to all of us."

"We've done okay so far," Harry replied. "Maybe ending the DA will be enough for her."

"I don't think anything will," Ron whispered glumly, and they both jumped.

"We thought you were asleep!"

They could hear him shrug. "Can't."

"Well."

"I don't think this is going to make her stop," Ron repeated. "Dumbledore and Hagrid are gone, but not on her terms, and McGonagall just got in her way. I don't think she's going to stop until she gets her final say, and that's the bare minimum as far as she goes."

Hermione shivered. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I don't want to be in Hogwarts anymore."

"You're not the only one," came Neville's whisper from the dark, and again they all jumped.

"Let's try to sleep," Harry suggested. "Before we wake the whole room."

There was a second or two where they all focused on trying to get comfortable, shoving pillows here and there and summoning blankets. No one had bothered to change into their pyjamas, but they pulled off their shoes except for Ginny.

Hermione closed her eyes, already knowing they would not get any rest that night. Perhaps Ron and Harry knew that too; they both had gone absolutely still but she knew beyond a doubt they were just as awake as her, and were like to stay that way until the sun rose.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

The small heap of billywig stings she held was making her sweaty palms itchy but Hermione held onto it as Pansy stirred the cauldron. As odd as the pairing was, (she had Snape to thank for this, of course) it was quite an improvement from working with Malfoy. By the curious gleam in his eyes she had known the Potions Professor had wanted to team her up with him, and would have if it weren't for Harry volunteering at once, to everyone's astonishment. Hermione only had to wonder if Malfoy had coaxed Snape into it or if he merely wanted to indulge his own cruel whim.

"Add the stings whenever you're ready." Pansy's tone was dry but not unkind. Hermione dropped them in without a word, and Pansy slouched back into her seat to wait for the potion to turn yellow.

Hermione envied her calmness. If only she could relax like that. How lucky Parkinson must feel that she was not on the end of Umbridge's microscope. Automatically her eyes found Malfoy seated beside Harry, dark circles underneath his eyes but looking no worse for wear.

Ever since he'd issued those threats to her he'd kept a distance, one she wished could last forever. His threats took up too much of her thoughts and she strove to play it as safely as possible, knowing that silence meant nothing good for her. Without being aware of it, she'd located him in the far back of the room and watched as they worked. Neither was speaking but they appeared to have come to an agreement to finish the potion as quickly as possible-Harry minced in a terse silence while Malfoy stirred, looking quite at peace, if not bored.

This worried her-normally Malfoy took it upon himself to goad Harry into losing his temper. Why so calm now? What was on his mind? What was he going to do next?

Hermione looked away angrily. How easy life must be when one didn't have to worry about the repercussions for their every move. How simple this must all seem to him-follow the girl, learn her secrets, demand betrayal, don't worry about punishment.

At least half of the Slytherins in the room were known to be in the Inquisitor Squad, including the one sitting beside her. Hate threatened to surge within her but Hermione stamped it down, angry with herself. As bad as the situation might be, Pansy was not Malfoy. Here she had every opportunity to torment her either with insults or more questions about the DA but so far she had been nothing but civil. Hermione glanced at her from the corner of her eye-she was playing with a bit of her hair, staring to the side of the room where Malfoy and Harry sat. Suddenly she turned, and caught Hermione's eye before Hermione could look away.

"Is it about time?"

Hermione ignored her own blush and checked the clock along the wall. "Yes, almost."

"Can you make the tubeworm paste? I'd do it, but I've always hated the smell of them."

"Sure."

"Thanks," Pansy replied. Hermione nodded and went to the storeroom.

Ron had been paired up with Crabbe, who wasn't doing anything at all, much to Ron's apparent displeasure. Sweating and red faced, he was cutting the leaping toadstools rather messily and stirring the cauldron at the same time whilst Crabbe picked at the dirt underneath his nails, shooting self-satisfied smirks at Goyle who sat three seats away. Ron's piercing blue gaze latched onto hers-Hermione gave him a sympathetic grimace and entered the vast storeroom, squinting in the dim light to find the aisle of jars marked T.

No matter how many times she had visited that particular room over the years (including one very memorable after-hours incident in second year), Snape's storeroom was a place she could never quite get accustomed to. Rows upon rows of bottled ingredients glinted dully under layers of dust; the occasional oddity crammed into dusty glass jars made her skin crawl-a jar full of small eyeballs, all watching her walk past, a container of still-twitching spider legs, something that looked revoltingly similar to an intestinal tract, a small box containing tiny skeletons. Boxes filled with smaller boxes, tiny jars full of crushed ingredients: lacewing flies, beetle wings, herbs and the like. Like the rest of the Potions classroom only the things that mattered were in perfect order-anything else was ignored. The ground was damp and sprinkled with puddles, the scent of mold lingered faintly in the air.

Hermione began to walk a little faster, and cast a Lumos. Dimly she could still hear her classmates working off in the relative distance, and she figured she had better hurry.

The lighting in here was a joke-would it kill to install some torches in here? Suggesting it to Professor Snape was out of the question-he never listened to her, for one, and anyone trying to offer ideas was always reduced to ashes under the weight of his glare, figuratively speaking. Hermione finally reached the Ts and scanned the shelf for the jar of slimy red tubeworms, hand already extended to grab. The moment her eyes found the jar she stepped forward, but a shiver ran down her spine and she turned at once.

"He-"

Her stomach churned. It was Malfoy.

Despite the darkness of the room she could make him out by the light he caught from her Lumos-the gleam in his hair and eyes, the sliver along his nose, the highlight on the curve of his lips, a patch on the sharp point of his cheekbone. The rest of him was obscured in shadow. Like a ghost, he faded gradually into the darkness of the room where the light had been obstructed.

Absently, she wondered if she appeared the same way but there was no time to dwell further on that thought. He stood so near to her if she were a ghost, one step forward would take her right through him.

Uncomfortable with the close proximity, Hermione clenched her wand more tightly. Looking upwards to the shelf, he reached up, and in consequence came closer. Hermione froze, unsure of what to do.

When he brought the jar down their gazes locked and Hermione opened her mouth but her voice had no strength and her words faded before they had a chance to pass her lips. Eerily vacant, his eyes darted down to them and lingered there. Heart beating furiously, she cleared her throat but he didn't move. Something passed through his eyes and they hardened.

The arm that was not holding the jar moved towards her strangely, as if acting on impulse but just as quickly he jerked it back, as if he'd left his hand in an open flame without realizing. His eyes were still angry but his whole demeanor had changed and he appeared as if she had sprouted horns. All this happened within the span of a second or two and he recovered quickly, although now she sensed he was unsure of something.

What was his aim? What was all this about? It was quite tempting to hex him but if she wasn't careful then she ran the risk of breaking something and then Snape and all his fury would get involved. Even if she succeeded, she was sure Malfoy would not hesitate to retaliate then and there. There was only one thing to do, then. Hermione reached up and shoved him away.

" _Get. **Out**_."

He didn't even stumble as he stepped back. The ice remained in his stare but he finally tore his gaze away from her and did as she ordered, leaving without ever having said a word. Hermione leaned against the shelf and exhaled shakily.

When she got back to her table with her jar Pansy had resumed the stirring of the potion.

"I just added the Valerian Sprigs, so you'd better hurry," she said, setting down the stirrer to add something to her notes.

"How much time is there left?" Hermione asked, setting the jar down. After she'd wiped her hands on her robes, she reached for the mortar and pestle.

"Just enough to finish," Pansy said. "I'll help, if you like."

"I don't mind," Hermione said, and quickly chopped up the tubeworms into small pieces and dumped them into the mortar. Pansy's nose wrinkled in distaste and she reached up to cover it while Hermione carefully mashed them into a creamy paste.

She understood well why the smell was so repugnant to the Slytherin but rather liked the task-that way she didn't have to focus on how she was shaking or the fact that she could feel Malfoy's eyes on her.

"Eugh, sorry," Pansy grimaced and leaned away as Hermione mixed it into the cauldron, watching it dissolve quickly into a thinner liquid and the potion became a brighter yellow.

"There," Hermione said, clearing away the mess, and turned to face Pansy with a faint smile. "Think you can breathe now?"

"Don't make me regret telling you about that," Pansy said, flushing, although the corners of her mouth had lifted into a tiny smile. Now the potion was done there was nothing to do so she set about rolling her sleeves back down, smiling. "Well done, both of us."

This was strange, Hermione thought. When the class had started they'd both focused on being civil but somehow it had morphed into simply being friendly. Strange phenomena, but Hermione found it rather pleasant. A warning voice in the back of her head reminded her that Malfoy had supposedly had a change in demeanor once, too, and therefore Pansy could not be trusted, but Hermione wasn't so sure this time. With Pansy it felt genuine, and that confused her.

Snape was going from desk to desk, inspecting each cauldron from above his hooked nose. Hermione looked over to Ron, who had given up trying to make the potion by himself and now sat singed and furious with his arms crossed, facing away from Crabbe who didn't seem to care. Their potion was smoking and had turned black.

Harry, on the other hand, had finished his potion. Whether he had done the majority of the work or not was hard to tell, but Hermione knew Malfoy must have put his part in since Harry was not adept at potion making. Malfoy was heading back into the storeroom to put away his tools; Harry sat there looked quite peeved. As if he felt her eyes on him, he looked up and they exchanged grim smiles. A crumpled note hit him in the head and he turned to where Ron sat, who was gesturing to his cauldron. Harry shrugged. Ron cursed and then motioned to Hermione. She gave him a thumbs up and he looked even more sullen. As Snape moved closer to their tables he pushed his seat away from the desk, shot a vicious look at Crabbe, and crossed his arms once more, a muscle working in his cheek.

Hermione turned away, feeling very sorry for him. Neville didn't seem to have had much luck either, judging by the look on his face-it was either that or the fact that Snape was standing nearby.

"I wish he'd get on with it," Pansy's voice cut into her thoughts." He loves taking his time with everything."

Hermione watched closely as Snape hovered at Neville's desk, where he and Theodore Nott were assembled by the cauldron.

From where she sat it was impossible to tell what was inside it, but she could see Snape's lip curl, and Neville's face went pale.

"Barely passable."

Snape continued on to the next table, and Hermione let out a breath.

"Theirs is just as good as ours," Pansy said, frowning. She'd gotten up to take a closer look and had returned to the table. "Or did we do something wrong?"

"I'm sure we did it right," Hermione said, scanning the instructions in her text book. Snape was almost to them and now was really the worst time to be having doubts but there they were anyway and oh Merlin, was she going to start panicking now? And over this, of all things?

Could Pansy have sabotaged their potion somehow?  _Ridiculous_ , she told herself.  _It would affect her marks too. And with what motive?_  Pansy wasn't the one spying on her. Suddenly her hands went cold.  _But she is close friends with Malfoy. Would it be too much to assume that he got her to butter me up, so to speak? Could that be why he didn't protest when she was assigned to be my partner?_

Snape was at their table at last. He peered into their cauldron for less than a second before standing upright again.

"Well done, Parkinson," he said, and left without another word. Having completed the round of the classroom he swept back to the front of the room.

"Bottle a sample of your potions and label them. You know where they go." He sat back down.

There was a sudden burst of activity and noise; it being the end of class everyone deemed it safe to speak a little louder than normal as they followed Snape's instructions and began to clear from the room.

Harry had already gotten up to get the flasks from the front of the room and returned with one for both Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. Hermione accepted the flask Harry handed her and met his eye. There was a message in his gaze.  _Wait_ , it said. She nodded, and he went over to Ron, who was chipping at the charred mess in his cauldron with the stirrer.

Pouring the potion into these flasks was never easy. The opening was too small and narrow to be able to take in much at once. Hermione poured it in a small trickle, taking great pains not to spill any on her hand.

"You can go, if you want," Hermione said to Pansy, who had stood up and was hoisting her bag over one shoulder. "You look like you're in a hurry". She tried to keep the friendly tone to her voice-whatever Pansy's motives were, she wouldn't let the Slytherin know she had caught on, not yet.

"You're sure?" Pansy asked, and Hermione nodded. Pansy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and looked over her shoulder at Snape, who sat hunched over a book, ignorant to the lot of them. She turned back to Hermione. "Just wanted to say I liked working with you. I had fun."

"I did too," Hermione said, surprised that she meant it. It actually had been, too, until the end.

"And even though he ignored you," she motioned to Snape, "you did a good job."

Hermione was starting to think that Pansy was really laying it on thick but she smiled anyway.

"Thanks."

"Alright. I'll be seeing you," Pansy went off to the exit.

When Hermione finally exited the classroom she met Harry and Ron, the latter was engaged in a rant.

"Crabbe wouldn't even stir the potion! The easiest thing, that, and he flat out refused! I'd have been able to finish the whole damn thing by myself if it weren't for the fact that the blasted thing has to be stirred every so and so minutes, and I've only got two hands!" He threw them up into the air for effect.

"And he still gave Crabbe five points for trying," Harry added, shaking his head.

"You're pulling my leg," she said.

Ron shook his head, looking disgusted.

"Next time I'm going to insist I be paired with anyone else. Except Malfoy or Goyle. Hell, I'd work with  _Zabini_  at this point."

"How was working with Malfoy?" Hermione asked Harry.

"I think he might have bit his tongue off when we were paired together," Harry said, and Ron laughed.

"There's a fine thought."

"I thought the two of you would have been arguing all throughout class," Hermione admitted.

"I don't know if I would have preferred that, to be honest. Bloody ferret didn't say one word except for 'you chop everything up'."

"Did Snape give him all the credit for brewing the potion?" she asked.

"Yeah. I don't mind though. I've never been good at potions so I know the only reason Snape accepted it was because of Malfoy. I would rather have failed with Ron."

"Aw, thanks mate." Ron sounded genuinely appreciative, and they all laughed. Harry turned serious again. "He hasn't said anything to you, has he?"

Hermione thought of what had happened in the storeroom. "No."

"Feel like going to the great hall for lunch?"

"I want to shower first," Ron said. "We've got enough time, and I need to wash the smell of smoke and academic failure out of my hair."

* * *

"Did you ask her about the group?" Draco asked, winding his scarf around his neck as they stepped outside.

"No, why would I?" Pansy replied, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Did you question Potter? I don't think so. We were in class, Draco, Snape would have chewed me out for it."

"He wouldn't have cared."

"You do it, then."

"We'll see."

Together they made their way down to the Quidditch Pitch and climbed up to the seats. Pansy brushed the snow off, Draco charmed it away and made sure it was dry before sitting down.

"Are you ready for exams?" she asked.

"Change topic." He leaned all the way back, hung his arms on the seats behind him and relaxed.

She nudged him crossly. "They're not that far off, you know."

"Change topic."

"There's a meeting tomorrow before dinner. Will you be there?"

"I suppose I have to."

They became silent for a moment, watching the Hufflepuff team assemble on the field for practice.

"I wish this was over already. I'm sick of that cow Umbridge constantly demanding updates."

"It will be," he said. "Of course, she could have done this herself in no time. I don't see why she wanted to drag all this on."

Pansy scooped up a handful of snow and began to mold it into a ball between her palms. "She's cruel, but daft. Not much separates her from Crabbe and Goyle."

"The difference is they hate cats and she doesn't know how stupid she is."

Pansy laughed. Draco swiped the snowball from her and tossed it into the air. She protested loudly but he caught it. Only a little piece of it chipped off.

"You and Granger looked awfully chummy today during Potions."

"Yes, I like to think so," Pansy said. "I enjoyed working with her. She knows what she's doing, which is more than I can say for the rest of that class."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. "Including me?"

"Including you."

Draco tossed the snowball back into the air, higher than before, and caught it again. Clumps of the snowball fell through his fingers and fell onto his thighs.

There was a sudden gust of wind as he spoke. "Do you like her?"

Pansy busied herself in rearranging her hair. "Yes, why not?"

"You don't find her unbearably annoying? I remember a time when you did."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. "That was years ago, Draco. People change and so do their opinions, don't you know? Besides, I was a little fool back then-we all were. I was constantly laughing at everything you said like you were the most interesting wizard in the world."

Draco ignored the barb, tossed the snowball in the air one last time. By the time it fell into his cupped palm it had been reduced to less than half its size. "Unfortunately, I seemed to think that too."

"Oh Draco," she said, laughing, brushing his hair back tenderly, like one would an infant. "You still do, I think."

"Everyone does, to an extent," he said indifferently, tossing the small lump of snow behind him.

"But someone like Granger can't think highly of herself?"

"She's got enough to inflate her ego already. She's nothing but a stubborn, rude fool."

"To you, perhaps."

Draco turned to frown at her.

"Don't pretend you're surprised at that, Draco. You've never been anything but hostile to her and then you get gobsmacked when she has the audacity to return the favor. No one owes you anything, especially when you treat them like they're less than you."

"You're defending her now?" his voice was sharp.

"I told you, I'm tired of this," she said, looking away. "I wouldn't have done any of this in the first place if you hadn't dragged me to Umbridge's door the moment she became Headmistress."

Draco sat up. "Your father would have made you do it anyhow."

"Yes, but all I had to do was write to my mother and she would have talked him out of it. I don't know why I let this go on for so long-I guess I didn't think it would be like this." Pansy looked away from him and into the field.

"You can't drop out of the group now," he said angrily. "Umbridge won't like that at all."

"I didn't say I was going to drop out, she said, brushing her robes. Even if I did I wouldn't be the only one who's dropped out at this point, either. Theodore hasn't come to a single meeting since he and Daphne started seeing each other. The only reason I'm not quitting outright is that two deserters looks worse than one and I don't want that woman hovering over me more than usual since she's angry enough now. Nor do I want to have to explain to that woman just why I'm opting out-I don't want a target on my back. I'll stay but I won't be following Potter or Granger or anyone else. I'll be doing the bare minimum," she said brusquely, "as I was before."

Draco said nothing, but she knew he was angry. Pansy flicked her fringe away from her eyes and crossed her arms, frowning.

You won't tell?"

He kept silent. Pansy sat back down.

You're angry with me over this."

"Of course I am," he snapped. "Where has all this come from? What am I supposed to think about this? You're with them now? Is that it?" his eyes were accusing and slightly hurt. "What kind of crap did Granger tell you?"

"Nothing-and I never made that declaration, Draco, don't put words in my mouth. I only said I don't want to do this anymore. I don't even know if I wanted to from the beginning."

"I thought you wanted to," he mumbled.

"Yes, you did. That's why you got me into this." She placed her hand on his arm, let out a small huff of laughter. "You're always thinking you know what's best for me, ever since we were children."

Draco was barely listening.

"So you're telling me that during all this time you never once interrogated Potter?"

"I meant to, at first. Then he got wind of it and I didn't bother anymore. Too much effort."

Draco shut his eyes and winced. "Merlin, Pansy."

She pressed her hand onto his arm more insistently. "Umbridge told me about what you did to Hermione. Said to keep an eye on you and your temper."

He opened his eyes. "Why?"

"Because you've gotten into enough trouble as it is, Draco. Merlin, you were almost  _expelled_." She paused. "Don't you think you're taking this too far?"

Now he pulled his arm away. "You said you're tired of this. Did you ever think you might not be the only one?"

"No, but I'll be honest," she said, bringing her hand back to her lap, "you seem to have been enjoying this more than the rest of us. And there's better ways of bringing this to an end, you know that."

"I don't enjoy it," he snarled. "When we first got our assignment I practically begged Umbridge to task me Potter instead but she refused. All I want is for this to be over." He gave her a nasty look. "Apparently I'm the only one making an effort."

At this Pansy drew back and after a moment, stood. Behind her the shouts and calls from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team grew louder as they soared through the air. Draco fancied he could hear the quivering hum of the Golden Snitch from where he sat and found himself wishing he were on his broom instead of sitting in the stands.

"Then at least keep your temper in check", she said at last. "I'm worried about you, Draco, really."

"Don't lecture me," he said impatiently. "And I'm not going to apologize. She deserved it."

"Why, for not wanting to betray her friends?"

"That and more."

"I can't believe you," she said, shaking her head.

"You're not  _seriously_  on her side," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"What if you were in their place, Draco? Or me? I-I've been giving it a lot of thought...What if someone came to you every other day and followed you around trying to get you to betray me or your family? If I was at risk of expulsion, Azkaban, exile, would you do it?"

Draco stared at her, perplexed. "That's not the same thing at all, Pans."

"Would you?"

"No, of course not," he said finally. "But you're not them. And Azkaban? You're being silly-"

"Am I?" she shot back, raising her chin. "Is it so impossible to think that we're in the wrong?"

"How is it wrong?" he asked plainly. "We're helping the Headmistress by uncovering an illegal society beneath the school-"

"Gods, Draco, you're starting to sound just like  _her_." She wiped at her nose.

"-all we know is that they've started a resistance within the school and that we have to find and stop it. How is that bad?"

"How is choking someone as a means to that end not worthy of regret? There's a line, Draco. We're students, not Specialized Task Aurors."

"Well I never pretended to be one! For Merlin's sake Pansy!"

"You're being childish," she said, "and I think if you don't take care you'll only get worse. Really, Draco, you could have seriously injured her."

"I was angry, yes, and I lost control," he admitted. "I already have been yelled at enough, so stop there because I don't want to hear it."

"You just have," she retorted. "Are you that thick that you can't realize you need help, Draco?" Her eyes had gone shiny with tears. "What bothers me is I can't tell if you were always this way or if you've only gotten worse. Maybe I didn't realize before because I was the same as you."

"I'm the same as I was before," Draco said haughtily, crossing his arms. "The only thing that's changed is my exposure to that filthy Gryffindor."

Pansy gave him a long stare. "Really?" she asked faintly. "Then I don't know how I could have been so blind." She turned and began to walk away. Draco rushed after and stopped in front of her, and she paused.

"Blind as to what?"

She gave a brittle laugh. "You know, Draco. Unless you've somehow made yourself believe that's also Hermione Granger's fault." Her face was full of regret. "Like I said-I'm not entirely faultless. I've never been an outstanding citizen either." Her hands clasped his shoulders. "But I am trying, and so can you, starting now."

He let out a bark of laughter. "And what, shall we go and deliver compliments to everyone? You can send flowers to the Professors by owl and I'll braid the Mudblood's hair if you like. Then at night we can feel good about what  _nice_  people we are. Maybe once we've all become fast friends with Potter and pals they'll feel like sharing secrets!"

"Don't be an ass, Draco, that's not what I meant."

"Then don't accuse me of changing when you're the one suddenly concerned about morale and  _compassion_  when two years ago you'd have done anything to get those three into trouble," he said. "I've never lied. I've always wanted the same thing, Pansy. Trying to accomplish that doesn't make me a bad person."

"When you come close to killing someone it does. And if that's what you've always wanted then I think you should go after something else. I don't like how all this has affected you."

"Are you going to keep bringing that up?" he asked nastily.

"Yes, until you acknowledge how serious it is and that you need help," Pansy said.

"There's  _nothing_  wrong with me," Draco snarled.

Pansy gave him a pitying look. "And that's where  _you're_  blind." She turned and left.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

"Can't I have one day where I don't have to worry about the loads of homework I have to do?" Ron complained the next day after a particularly grueling Transfiguration lesson. Harry and Hermione stood waiting as he shoved his books inside his bag. "Honestly, Harry, one day you're gonna wake up and I'll have died in my sleep because all these assignments are killing me."

"Maybe you wouldn't worry so much if you did your homework on time," Hermione's voice was muffled by her robe as she rummaged through her schoolbag. Ron shot her a look. They left the classroom and entered the hall, setting out for the Gryffindor common room to put away their things before going to dinner.

"It's been years and I  _still_  don't understand how you manage with that load of classes you take," Ron said, shaking his head.

"I  _manage_  because I know how to use my time wisely," she snapped at him crossly. "I don't shove everything off until the night before it's due."

"Well…that gives the full experience," Ron protested, blushing. Hermione rolled her eyes.

At the Fat Lady's portrait they ran into Parvati Patil, who was in the worst of moods. She had her arms crossed and appeared on the verge of tears.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked her.

"Got a detention," she said angrily, too upset to meet their eyes. "I ran across Umbridge on my way here and she's out for blood, I only bumped into Neville on accident, neither of us were looking, and she gave us both detention for 'inappropriate touching'!"

"That's a load of tripe," Ron said, gaping.

"According to her it isn't," Parvati snapped. "The old toad told us we wouldn't have gotten the detention if we had kept track of all her stupid decrees, like anyone's got the patience OR memory for that..."

"Why are you out here?" Hermione asked.

"Oh! It's a good thing you're here," Parvati said, letting out a dry laugh, "to top it all off I forgot the new password."

"It's 'phoenix'."

"In you go," said the Fat Lady, and they climbed through.

"I'd better hurry," Parvati said gloomily, "the detention's after dinner." She left towards the girls' dormitories.

Alone again, the three of them silently dumped their bags in the coziest unoccupied corner and left immediately, not wanting to be late to the meal. The other students they passed in the corridors were grave-faced and silent, even the light itself in the school seemed more dim. Once or twice Hermione or Ron tried to start a conversation to lighten the mood but could not bring themselves to do it. Harry didn't seem to notice, something else occupied his mind. Neither of them had to guess what it could be-ever since Umbridge had taken him off the Gryffindor Quidditch team he'd been restless and quiet, if not sometimes hostile.

Lee-Jordan passed them by, scowling and clutching at his hand. Droplets of blood trickled through his fingers. Hermione reached into her pocket, ran after him, pressed something into his hand, whispered something in his ear and rejoined the others.

"What was that?" Ron asked her.

"Essence of Dittany," she whispered back after a quick scan of the space around them. "I've always got a bottle or two on me now, so many people are getting detentions lately." She frowned. "Umbridge is very keen on giving anyone detentions for any reason-it helps to be prepared."

"What did you tell him?"

"To find Parvati and Neville later and pass the bottle to them," she replied as they entered the great hall.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened at dinner, other than Hermione observing that Malfoy was not there, which lifted her mood a little. Dinner was usually the best meal of the day-not quite because of the food but by grace of it being had by the end of the day everyone was usually content to talk about their day and look forward to going to bed, but there was no chance of liveliness now. Except for the click and clatter of the eating utensils and a cough or a sneeze here and there, everyone ate in a sullen silence. To make matters worse, Umbridge watched them closely from her seat throughout the hour, and by the end they were all extremely uncomfortable and wary and somewhat cross.

"I don't think I was able to taste any of that since she kept staring at us," Ron said, rubbing his stomach as everyone began to stand from their tables to take leave. Oddly, Umbridge had not given one of her pathetic and long-winding speeches. This would have been a cause for celebration any other day but by the way she was eying them now Harry supposed it was nothing worth gloating over and it only added to his bad mood.

Neville approached them, looking fretful. The thing about Neville was that he always had a bit of a worried look on his face due to his nervous disposition but at this moment it was tinged with panic and Harry wished he hadn't seen him at all. Thinking about his impending detention made him feel quilty, somehow. By then he had reached them and had opened his mouth but the second he saw Hermione, he started and took two long steps back, looking wildly around him. Harry and Ron shared confused looks. Hermione was the only one who had retained knowledge of Umbridge's absurd rule and therefore said nothing.

"Heading to Umbridge's office?" she asked.

"No," he said, evidently surprised they knew about his detention. They relayed to him how they'd found out, and he frowned. "I thought it was tonight, too, but Umbridge just now came up to me and said she'd moved it to Saturday instead."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Did she say what for?"

"No."

"Blimey," Ron said, looking behind them. "Here she comes now."

"I'd better go, I've got to tell Parvati," Neville said, and scuttled away. Before they could follow suit she had reached them.

As they left the room the other students formed a wide berth around her as they passed, as if afraid to come into contact with her. Umbridge wore her sweetest, most syrupy smile.

Hermione felt Harry tense beside her and clutched his wrist. The Headmistress noticed at once.

" _Hem, hem,_ " she said. "This would be the second time today decree number twenty-two has been violated in front of me," she said, smiling more widely. Harry was suddenly reminded of a hideous marionette Dudley had once been given as a boy, with its forced wooden smile. There was a bit of food caught between her teeth. It looked so much like a fly that it was all he could concentrate on.

Umbridge continued on, scribbling something in a little pad of paper none of them noticed she'd been carrying. Her fat fingers completely obscured the short quill she used to write.

"That will be a detention for the two of you. Sunday at five, my office." When she looked back up at them her beady little eyes gleamed with triumph. Hermione let go of Harry's hand at once, burning with shame and anger.

"That's not fair," Ron said loudly. "How does that warrant a detention? It's not like she was strangling him!"

There was a loaded silence. Hermione's hands had gone cold. A bead of sweat trickled down her back.

_We're in for it now._

"I will not take the time to explain my reasoning to you, Weasley," the Headmistress said stiffly, "since you have made it clear before that you do not listen. Detention for you as well."

Ron glared at her but said no more.

"Potter, I'd like to speak with you in private," she said brightly, as if the former exchange had not taken place. "Follow me." She waddled through the doors.

Hermione turned to Harry, panic in her eyes. He stared back glumly, as if to say 'what else can I do?'. Ron mouthed to him from behind Umbridge, 'don't drink the tea!'. Harry nodded and left.

The last of the spectators had fled in fear of catching their bad luck. Hermione and Ron watched them go in silence. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and looked down to where Harry and Umbridge had disappeared.

"Should we go after them?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "It's late, and I don't want to run into anyone else."

"Right," Ron mumbled.

"This is all my fault," Hermione moaned, bringing a palm to her forehead. "I wasn't thinking and just grabbed Harry's hand-"

"It was bound to happen one way or another," Ron said dully, "Umbridge's been wanting to get the three of us together in a detention for months."

Hermione shivered. "Maybe we should go back..."

"Not unless you've got the Cloak on you," Ron replied. "Umbridge has got Filch guarding the corridor outside her office. We'd need the map, too."

"Forget it," Hermione said as they reached the Fat Lady and gave her the password. "We're just going to have to wait."

They stepped into the empty common room and paused. The only noise in the room came from the fire in the hearth. Hermione eyed the stairs leading to the girls' dormitories.

"Let's wait here," she suggested, and Ron nodded.

They grabbed their bags from where they'd stashed them before dinner and dragged them over to the chairs closest to the fire. Ron's bag had been knocked over and the contents had spilled out. A quill and several wrinkled sheets of parchment lay scattered nearby. Cursing, he grabbed them and stuffed them back in haphazardly. Once done he set his bag beside the sofa and sat down beside Hermione, who brought her legs up onto the couch and leaned into him.

"D'you think she'll keep him long?" Ron asked.

Hermione blinked. The heat from the fire was drying her eyes but she was too tired to move away.

"No," she said. "If she's going to make a move I'm sure she's going to wait until Sunday when the three of us are together."

"I hope you've got more of that Dittany," he said, sighing.

Her voice was sad. "Loads."

"I heard Pomfrey's been giving that stuff out now that McGonagall's gone. Neville told me earlier he's been helping her make the stuff from scratch, since supply's running low and Snape isn't allowed to give them the ingredients so they've been getting most of it from Professor Sprout."

"That's brilliant." She could feel the heat from the fire in her hair, her clothing. Her eyes had turned to slits but she could still see Ron, although blurred-the brightest part of him was his hair, a most brilliant red fringed with gold where the firelight hit it. It even highlighted his eyelashes. His bright blue eyes were closing, too and she rested her head against his arm more comfortably, feeling her breaths even out...

When she awoke the first thing she heard was Ron snoring directly into her ear and then the absence of the fire crackling. Sunlight streamed into the common room-she could tell by the way her eyelids glowed gold.

_Morning._

She reached out blindly and pushed his face away-he grunted, and slept on.

Her eyes were still dry so she waited a moment before opening them-once she saw who sat opposite them she gave Ron a sharp flick on the nose with her fingers and he awoke with a gasp, blinked, and gave her an astonished look.

"The hell was that for?" He rubbed his nose.

Hermione pointed to Harry. Ron let go of his nose and they rushed towards him at once.

"Morning, mate," Ron shook Harry's shoulder, who awoke instantly. The dark rings under his eyes had grown more prominent. He brushed his hair away from his forehead and stretched.

"What's happened?" he asked, rising out of his seat.

"Nothing," Ron said. "We were going to ask you that, actually."

Hermione returned with a small bowl in her hands and handed it to Harry, who took it immediately and dipped his hand into the mixture. The blood from the cuts had dried overnight-he rubbed at it, wincing. Once it all had cleared away they were able to see the words more clearly.

_I must not tell lies._

"It looks worse than before," Hermione said softly.

"The more detentions someone has, the sharper the quills get, apparently," Harry said, dragging his other palm over his face. "Umbridge says that Lee Jordan and I have got the most so far. She said we're close to beating Fred and George's record."

"Merlin," Ron sounded ill. "She makes it sound like some sort of demented race."

"Did she give you the tea?"

"'Course she did," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "The moment she turned her back I dumped half of it into that awful plant beside her desk. Asked me about the DA and Dumbledore, when I said I didn't know about any of it she got right angry but since she thought I was telling the truth she just made me do lines in the end."

"Think that will end it?" Hermione wondered out loud. "Now she has your 'confirmation' that the DA doesn't exist, maybe she'll-"

"I told you," Ron cut in, "nothing's going to stop her. She'd sack the Minister himself if she had the opportunity."

"Let's head down to nick some food from the kitchens," Harry said, wiping the excess dittany from this hand. "I don't want to see Umbridge's face when I walk into the great hall."

They made their way down quickly. Hermione offered Harry a bandage to wrap around his hand.

"What's the point?" he asked. "It's just going to get sliced open again later when we go for our detentions."

They went around the corner, completely unaware of the shadow that had been following them from the Fat Lady's portrait. It lurked in an unlit alcove, waiting for the coast to clear before making a move. All it took was about ten seconds and a flick of his wand and the Disillusionment spell flickered away to reveal a tall blond figure that set off in a great hurry.

Draco wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Granger had a detention? Since when? And for what? Part of him considered going after them again but this had to be settled at once. He had to  _know_.

Upon reaching Umbridge's door he gave it a sharp knock. She answered from within and he entered.

The Headmistress stood before her desk, doughy fists planted on her desk, her posture that of a king at his grand table, revising a strategy before a battle.

"Is anything the matter, Draco?" she asked, rearranging the sinister sharp quills aligned on her desk. Draco sat down stiffly.

"I just heard from Potter himself that he and Granger have got detentions."

"The Weasley boy, too," she said, turning to pour herself a cup of tea. She offered him one but he shook his head. "After dinner the Muggleborn had the nerve to violate one of my decrees right before my eyes."

Draco frowned. "Which one?"

Umbridge turned, stirring her tea with a gilded spoon. Even the damned teacup had a kitten on it, for Merlin's sake. Draco wondered what her own home looked like and then decided that was something better left untouched .

The Headmistress sat carefully and leaned back, sipping her drink. Draco waited, trying not to let his impatience show.

"Decree number Twenty-Two states boys and girls must maintain a distance of at least two feet and the girl was practically attaching herself to the Potter boy like a parasite," she said, taking another sip.

"And Weasley?"

Umbridge's beady gaze fixed on him. "He made a reference to your- _ahem_ -incident with the Muggleborn girl."

Draco said nothing.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Mister Malfoy, but I am sure I made it clear to you when I said not to tell anyone about it," she said sternly.

"I've told no one," he said, "and Weasley would be the last person I'd tell anything to."

"I suppose the girl must have told them," Umbridge said, setting the teacup down with a clink. "I hope for your sake they have not told anyone else."

"You told Pansy, though. You ordered her to keep an eye on me," he said, leaning forward. "I am not a child. I don't need supervision. I am in control, and I don't need a  _nanny_."

"I merely instructed her to tell you to watch your temper," she replied calmly, folding her hands over her paunchy stomach. "I assume she followed through?"

Draco spoke between clenched teeth. "Yes."

"Then you have no reason to be angry," she said, smiling her greasy simpering smile again. "Miss Parkinson has passed on my message which I was not able to give to you, since you come so rarely to our meetings."

"I won't have anything to report if I spend all my time at these meetings," he said. "You know I have not been idle in that time."

"I'm sure you haven't, Draco." She looked at him, expectant. "Is there any progress?"

"I'm close to it," he said confidently, leaning forward. "And I've just had an idea."


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

The remainder of the week passed sluggishly. It was a wonder the trio made it to Sunday without another mishap or strangely, another encounter with Malfoy but when Sunday finally came the three of them made their way down to Umbridge's office in silence. A small group of other students passed them by, looking tired and nursing their hands. Hermione directed them to the Hospital Wing.

When they reached Umbridge's office Justin Finch-Fletchley was just exiting. Upon seeing the three of them there he looked stricken and promptly forgot the state of his hand.

"Oh no," he gasped, eyes wide. "Not you!" He leaned in close. " _I didn't drink it! I promise_!"

"Shut up," Ron hissed at him. "Go on before the old toad gets suspicious!"

Justin bowed his head before leaving quickly and the three of them entered the ugly little office. Umbridge stood at her desk, smiling her most unflattering smile. The mop of curls on her head made her look rounder than ever.

"Good, good! Potter, take a seat. Weasely, other side of the room."

Ron started to move to the other side, then paused.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked, and Umbridge turned away from him.

"Miss Granger will have to complete her detention someplace else for lack of space," she said, walking to the door. Without looking at Hermione she beckoned to her like one would to their pet. "I will escort you to your assigned classroom."

Hermione frowned. Harry and Ron looked furious.

"Sit down, Mister Potter. The quills are on your desks. I don't think you need be reminded what your lines are. Miss Granger,  _follow me_."

"She can stay here," Ron offered. "We can switch places."

"Sit down, Mister Weasley, or I will summon the caretaker. He volunteered to supervise your sessions and I might change my mind.  _Miss Granger, follow me._ "

Hermione followed the Headmistress warily, casting a last worried look back at Harry and Ron as she left the room. Umbridge was already a few paces ahead but it was no trouble for Hermione to catch up.

"Where are we going?" she asked stiffly.

Umbridge gave an unconvincing girlish laugh. "Only a little further down the hall. There's no need to worry."

They stopped at the door of an unfamiliar storage room and gestured to the door. "Your supervisor is inside. Won't you?" she opened the door with a flick of her stubby wand and tottered away. Hermione watched her go, suspicious, and stepped inside cautiously.

"Hello?"

The room was full of old crates and dusty trunks. A pile of broken and vandalized desks took up one corner, next to an old teacher's desk, where Malfoy sat, watching her coldly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." She stepped back through the door into the corridor. Malfoy followed, wand in hand.

"Get in," he snarled.

"Not in there," she said, shaking her head. "Not with you."

"That's not for you to decide," he said, pointing his wand at her. "Go in or I'll make you."

Hermione didn't move.

"Go," he repeated. "Now."

Hermione stalked into the room, seething, and he followed, closing the door behind him.

"I suppose you're too proud to sit," he said, perching on the end of the teacher's desk.

"Why are  _you_  here?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

"I'm to supervise your detention," he said crisply, tucking his wand into his pocket. "Isn't it obvious?"

She said nothing.

"If you don't sit then writing your lines won't be easy."

"For how long?" she asked stiffly, letting her arms fall back to her sides.

"A few hours, I'd warrant. Will you sit?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "This isn't an interrogation?"

"It might be, depending on how the night goes. Sit down, Granger, I'm not going to ask again."

The wooden chair scraped loudly against the floor as she sat down angrily. A long piece of parchment appeared before her, and then a long, sharpened black quill with a metal nib. Hermione picked it up, eyed the nib with a blank face.

"You know your lines?"

From above he watched how annoyance changed her expression. "Yes."

"Say it out loud for me."

Hermione grit her teeth. "I must not tell lies."

"While you  _should_  keep that in mind, Granger, Umbridge found a better one for you."

"And what would that be?" she asked icily.

"For you, it's 'I must not reach above my station'," he said, and Hermione rolled her eyes to the right, clenching her jaw.

The hurt she felt was surpassed easily by her rage. It would always amount to this, wouldn't it? At least, when people like Malfoy were involved. If she wanted to she could create her own Philosopher's Stone and people like him and Umbridge would still see her no better than a cockroach. Hermione had come to terms with this realization long ago but it still stung, especially when it was being thrown in her face as it was now.

"How lovely," she remarked sarcastically, ignoring the stinging in her eyes as she reached for the quill.

"Get ahead to writing," Malfoy said, clasping his hands behind his back. "I don't want to be here all night and I know you don't either."

"It's a shame you don't have a detention too," Hermione said, "I would dearly love to see you write 'I am a worthless bigot' over and over."

"Start writing."

"You should keep that in mind, too," she said. "You've said you're trying to teach me a lesson and I want to return the favor." She gave him a bold smile. "It's only fair, right?"

Malfoy chose not to respond, but gestured calmly to the desk. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and lowered the quill, bracing herself.

She wrote the first line as if she were taking notes like any other day in class-calmly and fluidly in her large, tidy script. Before she could start the next one she gasped and grit her teeth, forcing herself not to clutch her hand.

Letters flowered onto her skin, blooming in red. Each curve in every individual letter was a fresh stab of pain; her fingers trembled and she tried not to let her tears fall. Blood droplets collected where the skin and tissue was cut open by a magical force, but when she tilted her hand up to stare at it, the droplets trickled down her wrist slowly and the wound shone fresh and white above the smear of red, in her own handwriting.

_I must not reach above my station._

Malfoy was watching her, eyes gleaming strangely. They made eye contact-Hermione struggled not to reach for her wand to aim a blinding jinx at him. He inclined his head, staring pointedly at the parchment, and Hermione prepared herself to write another line.

_I must not reach above my station._

_I must not reach above my station._

_I must not reach above my station._

And so on.

As she wrote Malfoy watched. Sometimes he got bored of sitting still and would take a stroll around the room, ignoring her slight gasps as the pain began to grow greater.

The parchment seemed to have no end-no matter how long she wrote she never came close to the bottom of the roll. With every line the cuts reopened and closed shortly after, her hand turned redder and redder.

After what felt like the ten thousandth line, she paused, wondering if rubbing it was a good idea. It probably wasn't but it did sting quite badly...

She looked away from her hand and started in shock when she found him standing beside her, and in result almost dropped the quill. In her surprise she'd clenched her left hand and the wound smarted freshly-she gave a shuddering gasp and held it to her chest.

His voice had gone so soft she barely heard it over her own wild heartbeat. He'd leaned in, like he was checking her work.

"The more you pause the more you'll feel it," he murmured. "Write faster."

Frowning in confusion, Hermione shook him off. "I don't want your advice."

"Fine." Malfoy shrugged and sat back on the teacher's desk while she resumed her lines, wondering what had prompted him to say that.

A while later she stopped again, breathing hard. What time was it? It was hard not to cry. She looked at her hand.

_I must not reach above my station._

_I must not reach above my station._

_I must not reach above my station._

"I want to know what you said to Pansy."

She jumped again.

"Stop that," she hissed, leaning away. He'd come in close again while she'd been distracted. She could still feel how his breath had tickled her ear. "What are you talking about?"

"I want to know why my best friend spends most of Potions class laughing it up with you for company and then comes to me later saying I should treat you better," he said, advancing towards her again. "I want to know what sort of  _shit_  you fed her to make her suddenly rush to defend your side."

Hermione stared at him, perplexed. So Pansy's friendliness hadn't been an act after all. The news was a strange relief.

"Maybe she's just a better person than you," she said curtly, and began writing again. Malfoy's hand wrapped around her wrist. Hermione tried not to gasp in pain-his thumb pressed over her mutilated skin.

"I didn't tell her anything," she said angrily, trying to pull away. "Now let me go."

"You must have said something," he hissed into her face. "She won't talk to me now and I want to know why."

"Did you ever think it was because you're an awful person that no one wants to be around?" He squeezed harder.

" _I'm warning you-_ "

" _Don't cut me off,_ _Draco Malfoy_ _ **.**_ " Hermione wrenched free. His nails raked across her skin before he let go. Hermione shoved him away, eyes watering in pain. "I didn't have to tell her anything. I don't even know how she knows about this unless you told her so don't lay the blame on me now that she knows how awful you are. Anyone with good sense would have done the same."

Malfoy looked furious. "I didn't ask you, Mudblood."

Hermione picked up the quill again and focused back onto her parchment. "Yes you did. Now stop talking, you're giving me a headache."

Malfoy came closer. "Finish your  _fucking_  lines."

"You know, I'd be able to get on more quickly if you were to leave," she said calmly, writing again. The back of herhand burned and stung but she turned her face to stone and didn't react.

Suddenly his hand slammed down onto the parchment and she was forced to stop. Hermione grit her teeth and looked up.

"Was that your aim?" he asked, voice dangerously low. "To turn Pansy against me?"

"I had no aim other than to finish our potion," she said. "Only you would think I'd have some motive behind every little thing that I do."

"But you do, don't you," he said softly. Without realizing it his hand smeared her newest line and came away red with blood. "That encompasses your whole being, doesn't it. Everyone knows all you've ever wanted is approval." He leaned in, eyes narrowed. "Acceptance."

"Once, perhaps." Her glare matched his. "Now I know better."

"I don't think you do."

"What's more," she continued right over him, "I don't need yours, nor have I ever sought it."

She turned back to her notes with an air of finality, ignoring his rigid figure. There was a beat were she thought he might speak up again but he stood still, eyes flashing as if trying to restrain himself but suddenly he turned away, shoulders raised and tense. Hermione didn't fail to notice the way his fists were tightly clenched-as she wrote she kept her ears pricked in case he tried anything funny again but he stood motionless as a pillar. They remained that way until he spoke again, many minutes later.

"Time's almost up," he said woodenly.

Hermione repressed a sigh of relief. "Excellent."

Malfoy turned around just as she'd paused to let the stinging recede. Her hand had gone stiff-it was hard to move it without feeling pain. Her skin felt papery dry-the cuts bled fat droplets as she tried massaging her wrist.

"I'd ask if you've learned your lesson but I know your answer."

"Then why bother mentioning it?"

Hermione at last reached the end of the parchment and dropped the quill. The parchment rolled back up into a scroll, ink still gleaming. Malfoy eyed it.

"Congratulations," he said drily, "I reckon you're the first to reach the end of the parchment."

"How jolly," she replied, "what's my prize?"

"You get to leave this room and a final warning."

"Oh, I ' _get_ ' to leave the room?"

"Isn't that a relief?" he asked with a taunting smile. "Of course, I'd hoped Umbridge would allow me to keep you longer but she had her own ideas. I suppose we can always talk some other time but for now I want to make some things clear before you go."

He stepped close. "Stay away from Pansy."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You've done enough damage," he snapped. "I won't have you telling her more lies."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "First of all I don't think she'd like that you're making decisions for her. I don't care if you believe me or not but we didn't talk about you at all. Not everything I do revolves around you."

"For once, I think you're right, Granger," he said, crossing his arms. "It seems lately it has been my turn, to my utmost displeasure."

"Is that what's made you so paranoid, then?" she asked scornfully. "You'd think Umbridge would let you take a break. It must be exhausting for you to constantly be thinking up stupid theories about me. Following me about every day-either you're really committed to this  _job_  or you fancy me." This she said with a straight face-it had been her intention to deliver the last part with a saucy look in her eyes to mock him, to throw that joke he'd used in her first interrogation into his face but anger kept her face rigid.

The way he tensed meant he'd understood it anyway. He narrowed his eyes at her for half a second.

"'Theories' you call them," he spoke after some time. "Some of them have been proved correct, Granger. That's enough to lead me to believe the others might be as well."

Hermione looked at him coldly. "Define 'correct'."

"I put a tracking spell on your quill, Granger. I knew you were up to something. It's no coincidence all the times I've run into you."

The hairs on her arms stood at end. Hermione frowned.  _Of course_. How had she not realized that earlier? She'd suspected, but hadn't been able to come to a solid theory. Idiot.  _Idiot_! "Yes, I thought as much. I'll make sure to destroy it later."

He smirked and went to linger by the door. "I almost found you out, didn't I?"

"No."

"Yes, I did," he said. "You looked about to faint when we went into that room. You hid something in there."

"If by something you mean my peculiar study habits, then yes."

"Don't fly your broom around the subject," he snapped.

"I like my privacy. That is the central point." A drop of her blood dripped down onto the floor where it spread to the size of a knut.

Malfoy gave a snort of laughter. A lock of hair fell across his eye and he pushed it back. "I know what you're hiding. I won't stop until you've confessed."

A second blood drop joined the first. Another joined soon after and the stain grew to the size of a sickle. Hermione eyed it, stone-faced. "When can I leave?"

"You don't have to leave just yet," he said, loosening his tie. "Tell me everything now and you needn't risk the possibility of a second meeting."

She approached the door, which he still blocked. "The only thing I want to tell you is to back off," she said. "Although I'm sure once I burn that enchanted quill it'll happen soon enough."

Malfoy leaned towards her, a haunting smile on his lips. "Don't be so sure. Remember the promise I made you, Granger," he said in a low voice. "You can save yourself by telling me everything now. This is your last chance."

"At what? Mercy?" she laughed. "My, how kind of you."

"Don't mock me, Mudblood."

"I believe you already have my answer," she said.

Malfoy stepped away from the door, a strange light shining in his eyes. "So be it."

Hermione ignored him and exited the room. Harry and Ron were waiting further down the corridor. Not a word was spoken between them as they left. When they'd settled in the common room Hermione conjured three separate bowls and poured the dittany into them. The three of them sat there in silence for some time.

"How'd it go?" she asked them when the silence had grown to great to bear.

"No tea," Ron said, grimacing as he tried to flex his hand. "Just lines."

"Really?" Hermione said, shocked. "Why no tea?"

"If she's heard from me that the DA doesn't exist then I doubt she's going to keep pushing it," Harry said. "At least we don't have that to worry about anymore.

Speaking too soon, she thought. Out loud, she said, "She may believe it, but Malfoy doesn't."

"What do you mean?"

"That day he cornered me by the Room of Requirement, he knows something was up then."

"That's only a hunch," Ron said. "He's got no evidence."

"You've just reminded me of something," Hermione said, turning pale. "I'll be right back!" She darted up the stairs. The boys exchanged confused looks.

She returned, carrying her quill in her hand and a determined look on her face.

"I didn't realize we'd be taking more notes," Harry said. Ron let out a hoarse laugh. She shot them a look that wiped the grins off their faces.

Hermione stalked over to the fire and threw the quill into it without preamble.

"Er-I hope you've got a spare," Ron said.

"That was my spare," she said, still staring into the flames. "And that was how Malfoy's been able to tell where I am."

"Tracking charm?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded as she sat back down, and slipped her hand back into her bowl.

"I should have  _known_ ," she muttered, scowling. "All this time...So much could have been avoided!"

"Now that it's gone we'll have a better chance," Ron said, but even he didn't sound sure.

"He'll still be able to find us," she said. "But it'll take more effort now."

"What did Malfoy say?" Harry asked.

"From what he told me I assume he and Pansy Parkinson had a fallout of sorts. Didn't like that she and I got on rather well during Potions and now he's brought himself to believe I brainwashed her into believing my side of the story."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure. He said something along the lines of her wanting him to treat me better."

"Blimey," Ron said, looking rather taken aback. "I guess she's all right, then."

"Maybe I should talk to her," Hermione said. Her hands twisted a fold of her skirt. "Get her account of what happened between them."

"Be wary of Malfoy," Harry warned.

"When aren't we?" she replied, rolling her eyes. "He had the gall to tell me this was my last chance to come clean before he presumably comes through on his threats."

Ron spat into the fire. "Blistering sod."

"I'll be careful from here on out, of course," she assured them, "just like before."

"If we keep it up long enough he's bound to get tired of repeating himself," Harry said thoughtfully. "Umbridge has it on my word that the DA never existed. I don't know why she's letting Malfoy run around like this."

"Probably to appease his father," Ron said, sniggering. "She'd do anything for him."

"Eugh."

The three of them fell asleep almost immediately after, too worn to climb up to their dormitories. The hour was already very late, but it still came as a surprise when not too long after the last clumps of students began making their way down to breakfast, dull-eyed with longing for more sleep but led forward regardless by their grumbling stomachs. Hermione was the first to wake, and quickly put away the bowls of Dittany.

Ron and Harry woke soon after, yanking off their ties and made futile attempts at smoothing their hair. Ron wiped at the corner of his mouth, but by then the common room was empty again save for them.

Basking in the silence of the late morning, they lolled about, unsure of what to do. Hermione rolled off her socks and rubbed at the marks left by sleeping in them overnight. She wiggled her toes in the soft carpet.

Harry was looking out the window rather wistfully. The sky was clear and the weather sweet-they could see distant forms of Quidditch players in the pitch.

Hermione and Ron knew where his thoughts had strayed at once.

"You know Lee Jordan and Dean said you could borrow their brooms anytime, mate," Ron said. "Fancy going down to the pitch?"

Harry was up at once. The troubled look had fled so quickly from his face it was rather jarring to see the change-Hermione wondered when she'd last seen him smile like that. When had any of them smiled like that in the past month? It was sad to think of. Unaware of her thoughts, he turned to Hermione.

"Will you come too?"

"You already went to the library yesterday morning," Ron reminded her as she opened her mouth.

"I know that," she snapped, swatting him. "I was going to say yes."

"Oh. Sorry." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll get the brooms?"

"Cheers," Harry said.

Hermione stood. "Well, let me fetch my cloak and we'll get going."

Already she was unfastening her robes, heady with the prospect of a morning well spent when Harry caught her wrist and she stopped. The redness around his eyes couldn't mask the alertness there, focused on the back of her hand. It took a moment for her to remember why.

"Silly, isn't it," she said, joining his horrified stare. The sting of the phrase had gone but she knew it wouldn't last forever. There had been and would continue to be times when she would feel inferior but now was not going to be one of them, and  _certainly not_  because of this. The only thing that really did hurt was the thought that Malfoy's words at last had made a mark on her. Literally. She'd entertained hope of the scars fading in time but examination of Umbridge's quill and Harry's own scars were enough to banish them. They could call Umbridge a fool all they wanted but the woman really knew how to design a lasting punishment.

Harry's own scar beamed up at her from where he held her hand.

"We almost match," she said softly.

"Malfoy chose that phrase, I'll bet," he said. "Wish we could choose one for him."

"Oh I've already picked one out, and more," Hermione said, smiling. "Maybe I'll get him in his sleep and write it on his forehead with everlasting ink. It would be worth the punishment."

"Ready?" Ron bustled back into the room, carrying two brooms. Harry let go of her hand carefully to not upset the cuts.

"Let's go."

The morning was brisk and clear. Ron and Harry zoomed off at once, tossing a Quaffle between them. After only a few minutes Fred, George, Ginny and Lee-Jordan joined in. More than once they called for Hermione to join them but she declined, still feeling the effects her detention. What little sleep she'd gotten hadn't been enough; her eyes felt heavy and her head throbbed. The blue flame she'd conjured inside the little jar burned bright and merry, warming her to the point of dozing off every now and then. She'd used it to melt away the snow from the general area around her. After jerking awake for the third time she decided to just give in, since the day was so nice and she didn't want to go back inside by herself.

The boys had left their robes behind. Hermione gathered them into a bunch and settled herself as comfortably as she could, curling onto her side. The woosh of the brooms flying past and the shouts of the Gryffindors grew annoying even as she slipped back into her nap-Hermione cast a Silencio around herself and dozed off at once.

When she awoke Ginny and the boys were all standing in the middle of the pitch, talking amongst themselves. Hermione stretched and pushed at her hair, keeping an eye on them in case something was wrong and she didn't know it yet, but there was no need. They were all red in the face from the exercise, windswept and undoubtedly sore but grinning nonetheless, Harry especially so. Hermione smiled. It was a good sight to see. Her hand still throbbed but she paid it no mind as she gathered the robes again to meet the group down in the pitch.

Lastly she pocketed the jar and while turning to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, accidentally locked onto a pair of silver eyes and froze, her shout of surprise died in her throat.

"How long have you been there?" she hissed, cheeks flushed in anger.

"Feeling better?" Malfoy asked, motioning to her hand. He sat calmly, fully aware of the fact that he was in the Gryffindor stands. The slight breeze ruffled his hair and he leaned forward, settling his elbows onto his knees, watching her carefully.

"Don't pretend to care," she hissed, shivering. "Gods,  _were you watching me sleep_?"

"I'll never be so bored that I'll resort to  _that_  for entertainment," he said, scoffing. "So no, I wasn't. I came out for a walk and I saw you waking from the field and I thought I'd say hello."

Hermione gathered the mass of robes to herself and rolled her eyes, put her hand on her hip. "So soon? We just spent all night together, give me some distance, please. I can only take so much of you. Although if you insist, Valentine's day is coming near-I'd rather you just send me flowers and break my heart via owl."

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards though his eyes kept their steel.

"All jokes aside," she said, "stay away from me. You following me around like this, people will start to talk."

"I know you're hiding the truth, Granger, and I don't give a fuck about what others think."

Hermione cocked a brow. "Even your parents?"

He said nothing.

"I thought so." She left quickly, heading straight to her friends, where she knew he would not dare approach her again.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

It was his free period and he'd left the castle for a much needed breather. Lately he was taking them more often than usual but he was often too lost in thought to notice, much less care.

It was lucky the weather was getting a little warmer, though he knew he'd still find his way out of the castle if there was a blizzard every day. Were it any other day he'd have asked Pansy to come along but she still wasn't speaking to him. Draco missed talking to her but was too proud to approach her, so when he felt in need of company he went to Crabbe and Goyle, and when he felt like legitimate conversation Blaise and Theodore were always happy to oblige. They couldn't replace Pansy but if she was determined not talk to him then he wouldn't force it. Years of friendship between them had instilled in him all her character traits-when Pansy set herself to something it was nigh impossible to change her mind. It hurt to think about but Draco didn't want to approach the subject any further. She'd presented the ribbon to cut and had pushed the scissors into his hands so he would oblige.

The loss of so close a friend was filled in by the anger he felt at who he felt had caused it. No matter what she claimed he refused to believe her. She'd lied before, who was to say she wasn't now?

Undisturbed by the light, icy drizzle due to his water repelling charm, he sat quiet and somewhat peeved in the corner of the courtyard as he tried to untangle his thoughts. The scarf wound around his neck felt too tight but he couldn't be bothered to loosen it.

The rest of the Inquisitor squad had gotten lazy once they'd heard about Potter's interview with the Headmistress, which infuriated him. Of course they would all believe him-even Umbridge. First Nott, then Pansy, then everyone else. Ridiculous. They weren't doing nothing, at least, Umbridge had given them the Prefect's privileges to keep them busy. He remembered when the news had been announced via owl-the look of absolute outrage on Granger's face as she'd read the pink note, how she'd refused to wear her badge since. While that had been fun to watch, the change hadn't done anything for him-he still had his prefect duties and such, patrolling after hours was no different than it had been before.

Compelled by a strange burst of restlessness, Draco stood and made his way to the trees, still bare and speckled with flecks of white. The snow made no crunching sound, it squished underneath his step and turned to an ugly grey slush. Hints of green could be seen around the area where the snow was thinning, but the ratio of grass to slushy snow-mud was quite uneven. He stuck his hands into his pockets and thought of summer.

Every now and then on some nights as he'd make his rounds (always alone unless Blaise felt like being productive) he'd catch a glimpse of Granger as she'd dart out of the library, eyes ringed from lack of sleep yet bright with dislike as she'd eye him from the corner of her eye while moving away before curfew was brought down. He never approached her then, it was enough to know she'd seen him. One way or another he was going to wear her down to get what he wanted, and he was getting close, he knew. He had to be. Though she'd destroyed the quill he'd learned enough from the tracking charm to be able to successfully guess where she could be at any given time.

Most places she went, he made sure to make an appearance, however brief. Regardless of how distracted she was, she always ended up noticing him fairly quickly. Time after time her hostile eyes would zero in on him as if he were the only one in the room, daring him to come near her.

It was strange the way her eyes had a sort of magnetic pull to them-it was almost impossible to look away, and she was always the first to break the contact, her eyes would flit away nervously. Angrily. If he walked past her too closely in the hall he could practically feel how her skin crawled as he purposely brushed his shoulder against hers. He had to give her credit-most days she never gave him any reaction-her eyes would have turned hard as obsidian the moment she'd lain eyes on him but never gave anything further than that. There were always cracks, however-some days she'd stumble while walking, drop what she was holding. Sometimes she'd look away too quickly, bring her hand up to her massage her neck, and he'd congratulate himself.

It wouldn't be much longer now, if things went to plan.

The protection of his pockets wasn't enough, his hands were stiff with cold. He clasped them together and rubbed. A stream of vapor left his nostrils. His lips were chapped to the point of pain when smiling, not that there was anything to smile about. He wet his lips and moved on.

The Gryffindor Team was practicing in the field. They weren't directly in his line of sight from where he stood at the edge of the forest but every now and then he'd catch a glimpse of scarlet and gold streaking through the air between the stands, the shouts from one teammate to another. Potter wouldn't be among them. That was small comfort too.

A pair of Hufflepuffs made their way through the snow, not far from him. Draco ignored them but they caught sight of him anyhow and immediately turned their backs and picked up speed. Draco watched them go as they tried not to look back at him.

The hostility within the castle had grown to almost unbearable limits. Housemates grew suspicious of each other, friends betrayed each other, Umbridge's office was always host to some trembling first year who thought they had the information she wanted though they were always wrong. Certain paintings were rumored to be on the Headmistress's side-everyone did their best to keep conversation in the corridors to a minimum.

While it was good that everyone was becoming more susceptible to the Headmistress's tactics, the people they really needed to come forward never did. He pictured Granger where he'd spied her last one day ago, tucked deep into the library, head bent over her homework, stifling a number of huge yawns. Every couple of minutes she'd cast a nervous glance around her, as if she could actually sense him lurking nearby. He'd waited, drifting from bookcase to bookcase, watching as she slowly fell asleep, her head nestled nestled atop a book. He'd waited a few more minutes until he approached her casually, and left her his calling card; the green apple he'd only taken one bite out of. Left it positioned where it would be the first thing she saw upon waking.

The detention with Granger had been most unsatisfactory in ways more than one. The only good that had come out of it was seeing those words slice themselves into her skin, see her reaction to them, but as he'd quickly found out it hadn't been enough. There had been no progress and now they were back to their game of cat and mouse.

What troubled him was that just as much as he'd worked to get under her skin, she'd somehow managed to slip under his and he wasn't sure how to get her out. Draco shifted uneasily. Damn her and blast her impertinence, but she'd been right. In working to complete his objective he'd become just as paranoid of her as she was of him. This job was a double edged barb-he'd come to learn too late.

He grimaced, ground his fist into his hip within his pocket.  _Of all the luck._

This wasn't as unusual as he was making it out to be-by virtue of being closely associated with Potter, the Mudblood was no stranger inside his thoughts, but certainly not to this degree. When it had happened he had no idea but something else had taken up residency alongside the anger he felt towards her-something dirty and insidious and he didn't like to think about it. It actually made him angrier, if possible. It worked like fuel. Whatever this was it meant nothing good for him and he wanted it  _gone_.

The day he'd spooked her in Snape's storeroom...that was when things had started feeling different. Maybe it had started before that, but he'd not noticed it. These thoughts, so subtle and soft, had crept up on him little by little that he'd hardly noticed them. Whatever the case, it certainly wasn't a good idea to rake over the coals again and again as it would only make things worse.

The only problem was he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to touch her then-his arm had jerked up to brush at her hair, to trace her lip, he didn't know. For all he knew it might have grown a mind of its own and had jumped to lock around her neck. Startled by himself, he'd jerked back and refused to acknowledge it, even when her eyes demanded answers.

Draco stepped into the fringe of trees, taking care not to wander too far in. Memories of his first detention at Hogwarts resurfaced and he pushed them away, too disgruntled to pay them any attention.

They'd become too familiar with each other. The jokes (albeit sarcastic in their nature), all the encounters, forced or not, and worse, the insinuations. This would not do. It had to end if he wanted this to be over. It had to end. He could not suffer an... _attraction_  to Hermione Granger. He would  _not_. He refused to.

Unbidden and unwanted, another memory pushed its way in and he could see her backed against the wall, eyes distrustful and wary, glowing amber in the torchlight, his arms braced on either side of her. The way her hands felt pushing against his chest, her carefully clipped nails too short to cause damage when pressed into the fabric of his robes. How the heat from her body had transferred to his and he'd had to keep himself from shivering at the perverse sense of pleasure that intruded his thoughts then and the wash of horror that came next. The comment ( _compliment?_ ) he'd given her-then choosing to believe that it was merely another way to make her uncomfortable but now realizing it may have been genuine after all.

Draco grimaced. This couldn't be happening. Not with  _her_. For Merlin's sake, this was the last thing he'd ever would have wanted.

_If anyone knew-if **Father**  knew, he'd lock me in the cellar for a year... Mother would insist I should have gone to Durmstrang in the first place._

Draco reached up and grabbed at a thin branch hanging overhead, intent on breaking it off to toss away but as his hand wrapped around it it squirmed and sharp little points sank into his skin-Draco hissed and released it at once, and the bowtruckle dropped to the ground, chattering angrily. Draco looked for it amongst the mess of ice and mud, intent on giving the foul creature a hard stomp with his foot but it had fled. Fuming, he resumed his walk.

It just made no sense. His insides began twisting into knots. He'd fallen for more beautiful girls who were worth it-what on Earth did Granger have that encaptured him?

It wasn't love. It wasn't. The truth of that fact allowed him to expel a breath that had lodged itself in his throat, the bile to slowly crawl down back to his stomach. And he didn't fancy her. This wasn't some stupid schoolboy crush. There was just something strange in her eyes that compelled him. He thought of the few times he'd done something he hadn't meant to while under her gaze-what he'd whispered to her during her detention being the most recent example. Something that grew the nearer he got to her. She was mysterious in a way he'd never known she could be. What lay in her eyes held a strange power over him and now that he realized it he knew she was doubly dangerous.

Was she doing it on purpose? Did she know the power she held? Draco felt uneasy.

It was only physical attraction, for lack of a better word. Not even lust. Granger was no real beauty, but passably decent. She was an entity shrouded in secrets, it was only natural he felt somewhat drawn to her. Umbridge had ordered him to uncover some of those secrets and this was an unfortunate side-effect. What he had done in the past months were only for the sake of the job. Perhaps he had inflicted this upon himself.

 _Damn it all._  It would not last, he would not let it.

She'd never been anything more than a headache that refused to go away, or in this year's case, a task that had to be crossed out. A truth to be brought forward, a lie to be unfolded. With that bossy, velvet voice and enigmatic brown eyes and that pouting mouth, the extremely irritating way she had to do things right every time, he could only guess she was a wreck of nerves under that that put-together exterior. She had to be. The very proof was in how she strove for perfection in everything she did. He'd been forced to work with her many times throughout their Hogwarts career, he remembered seeing her overly crowded timetables and planners, the excruciating detail in which she plotted things out, not excluding the order of subjects in which she did her homework. Strange, fascinating, if not tiresome. Then there was her boggart-that he could picture to astonishing clarity even after it having happened years ago. The way she'd fretted and cried over failing her exams, even knowing it wasn't real.

Absolutely mental, yet somehow his brain had picked her. Draco shook his head.

 _No. I didn't **pick**  her. Not consciously. Not willingly. _He walked on, ignoring the fact that he could not feel his hands.  _Perhaps this is all a trick. She did something to me, that's the only explanation._

In the midst of all this he'd forgotten-perhaps she'd made him forget somehow-that she was not as she seemed. Beneath that veneer of wide, innocent eyes and lovely pink lips lay something that was twisted and corrupt. Lies weaved themselves like serpents in her hair, they sparkled in her eyes, lay ready at her tongue for firing. Every time he made another attempt she managed to twist away with another lie, another refusal. This was what her kind did, what they had always done. Left unpunished for too long they grew bolder, greedier. What was her aim?

Year after year he'd suffered being placed underneath her because of the lies she gave, her and Potter and Weasley. Year after year they broke the rules and were awarded for it. Everyone clapped them on their backs and placed them on pedestals where they could not be touched. They sneaked around the school constantly and did whatever they felt like and he was tired of it. They caused just as much damage as they did 'good', and no one ever paid that any attention. If no one could catch them at it-mainly her-then he would. They weren't the heroes everyone made them out to be. All the praise Dumbledore gave them-they didn't deserve was overdue. This was what he had to remember. Draco turned and began heading back. His hands were clenched into fists, his clear eyes focused intensely on the castle. The cold invigorated him now, he moved with urgency.

Granger could hide under that image all she wanted, she could get top marks and keep her nose in the air all she wanted but he knew what she really was, what really coursed through her veins. If everyone chose to see her for how she pretended to be then let them, but he would show them what she truly was, and  _then_  they could decide for themselves.

As he entered the school cold air rushed past him and into the corridor. It swept his hair around his face and unwound his scarf. He pushed it away from his face, heading for the library. She would be there now, studying. His next class was in twenty minutes. If he hurried, he could make it with time to spare.

The corridors were mostly empty, which was why he was able to hear them so well amidst his stormy thoughts. Their voices were high and panicked, too, which also helped. Draco slowed his walk to a crawl. They didn't notice, whoever they were. They had to be just around the corner.

_Even better._

"How could you, Henny?"

"I had to!" the other hissed. Both female, voices vaguely familiar. One was crying.

"What did you tell her?"

"Everything." There was a pause.

"I can't believe you."

"I  _had_  to, Cho. My Father is under inspection at the Ministry and if they knew that I was part of it he'd lose his job. Umbridge said she would make sure that didn't happen if I told her the truth. She just wanted to know so my Father wouldn't get in trouble."

"You didn't have to tell her anything!" the other one shouted. "We've gone this far without Umbridge finding out! She lied to you, she doesn't care about your Father!"

"It's over anyhow!" the other girl-Henny? said. "Potter said it himself! The DA is over! What could Umbridge do to that?"

"She's going to punish us all, you idiot! I don't think even expulsion would be enough for her! What did you think would happen?"

"I-I'm sorry," Henny said. Draco took a peek around the corner. The girls were facing each other, oblivious to his presence. Cho Chang backed away from her friend, and as she did he finally saw the other girl, who's name he distantly remembered was Henrietta. She had her face in her hands but when she pulled them away he saw why. Large, purplish-red cysts had formed on her face to form the word  _SNEAK_. There were tears in her eyes.

"I told Umbridge I would only confess if you wouldn't get into trouble either," Henrietta said. "Please, Cho-you have to understand why I did it!"

"I don't want any part of this deal," Cho said coldly. "You gave her what she wanted. I hope everyone sees you with that on your face." She walked away quickly.

Henrietta began to cry more earnestly, and Draco seized the opportunity to walk forward, wearing a friendly smile.


	13. Chatper Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

Once the Hedgcombe girl had been dealt with, it was late afternoon that same day when he found his target in the library after having searched half the castle.

It was the best time to be surrounded by books, but he was in no mood to enjoy it. The wide windows let in plenty of that burning golden light, ridding the place of its usual cold gloom. He walked through rows of tables and chairs and bookcases, letting his eyes seek her usual haunting spot but she wasn't there so deeper he went. There were less people this far back, and the silence affected him. He lightened his step and crept around the maze of books, searching for her until he caught sight of her in a gap between two books.

She'd been perusing the row of books in front of her, fingertips lightly trailing from spine to spine as she read the titles as if she had all the time in the world. When she heard his step at the end of her aisle she turned, a soft, welcoming expression on her face but it fell blank when she caught his eye. She'd been standing in the glare of the light but now stepped back into the shadow unconsciously, as if to hide. Her eyes glinted dully as she gave him that mistrustful look he knew so well.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning to face the books. She wore a thick jumper, too big to be her own. It hung down past her hips and he eyed it suspiciously, wondering if it was Potter's or Weasley's.

"Were you expecting someone?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." She rubbed at her neck.

"Merely curious. You had that look about you like you were waiting for your love Potter." He absolutely ignored the stab of jealously that bit into him. Part of her hair caught light from where the shadow could not cover it-it glowed an earthen coppery gold.

She crossed her arms. "What I'm doing and who I'm waiting for is none of your business."

"Funny, that," he remarked, sounding anything but amused. "When I've told you repeatedly that you've made it my business by withholding information."

"Goodness, Malfoy," she said, exasperatedly, "Do you want a look at my diaries too, while you're at it? There's nothing to learn. I've hidden nothing."

"Then why don't I believe you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Because you don't have any common sense."

Draco had to resist hexing her then. Still, he entertained the thought.

"Are you done boring me?" she asked, yawning. "It's getting late, and I don't have time to cater to your suspicions."

The columns of light shifted around them as she turned back to the bookshelf in a swirl of dust and hair, and resumed her inspection of the titles lined up on the shelves around her, ignoring him completely as she moved farther on down the aisle. The sun had begun to set, and the heavy beams of the palest sunlight gold had moved; as if seeking her, they framed her in their beauty. He followed her silhouette, falling to stand just where she had been moments prior. He had to squint to see, but after a second or two his eyes adjusted and he saw her through the flowing streams of floating motes, soft and lucent and lovely and  _wrong_.

Having dismissed him, she'd become engrossed in her search again-a particular book caught her attention, an excited shrug of her shoulder caused her school bag to slide down her body and land heavily on the floor in another explosion of dust that rose up with the sudden movement of air. Draco waved the offending particles away from his face, frowning, just as her hand folded around the spine of the book to pull it out.

Not knowing why, Draco reached up too. Their hands touched, and she stilled. Draco didn't pull back his hand. He heard the sigh of her hair moving across her back as she turned to look at him, the deep brown of her eyes glowing red from the sun. He could see every minute detail in them, and hated himself for wanting more. Her lips moved.

"Remove your hand."

Bowing his head, he took another step closer, closing the gap between them. He made sure to keep his voice low.

"It's over, Granger."

There was no triumph in his voice-no edge that cemented his victory. There would have been once had he not realized the effect she had on him. It had rattled him so deeply he could find no happiness in her current predicament. This changed things and he was resolved to be very careful from then on. Still, there was the cruel pleasure in her not knowing what had happened yet, and he was delighted in being the one to break it to her. At least he still had that.

Her grip on the book loosened, just a fraction before she caught herself. Slowly, he pulled his hand away.

Draco searched her face, her eyes, for any hint of truth but nothing betrayed her. She took a step away, exiting the light and wandered farther into the shadows where his eyes couldn't quite determine the expressions her face took.

Her voice came, quiet, guarded. A serpent coiling into itself. "I don't know what you mean."

"Someone's confessed," he said. "I thought you'd have known about it by now."

She didn't believe him, it was plain to see. "I'm not falling for this, Malfoy," she said, grabbing her bag off the floor and hoisting it back over her shoulder as she prepared to leave. "There's nothing to confess, I've told you before."

"And we both knew you were lying," he said. "I'm not stupid, Granger. I know you too well."

She turned sharply to face him. "You don't know me at all."

Draco stepped forward and she stepped back, arms held loose at her sides but he saw her reach for her wand.

"There's no need for that," he said, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Regardless of you being her favorite, Madame Pince will have your head if you damage anything here."

"You underestimate me," she replied. "I've excellent aim."

It took effort not to become angry. "Put it away. It's terrible etiquette to start a duel in a library."

She snorted. "After all that's happened you care about manners  _now_?"

Draco ignored her.

"Laugh all you like. You've been summoned by the Headmistress, Granger. I'm here to collect you."

"That's all the more reason, I think," she said, and kept her hands where they were. "I'm not going anywhere."

Draco clenched his jaw. Her eyes were ringed with heavy circles, her hair appeared unkempt. There was something dangerous in her expression that he'd been waiting to see. She'd never looked more alluring. The thought filled him with disgust.

"I didn't ask if you wanted to," he snapped. "You don't get to decide if you'll come or not."

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"

"You're lucky she didn't come for you herself."

"She'd never," Hermione said. "I've never seen her go up steps that didn't lead to a podium."

He had to bite back a smile at that, and then remembered himself.

"A Ravenclaw made the confession, Granger. Is that the proof you need? I saw the cost of betrayal-who knew the Mudblood was capable of such a thing?" His eyes gave the answer.

She, in turn, appeared shocked but recovered quickly. Her eyes flitted nervously around him, searching.

"Wondering where your best friends are?" he smirked. "They're not coming. They're waiting for you in the Headmistress's office."

"No," she whispered, dismayed.

"I saw it myself. Crabbe and Goyle would have been sent to fetch them, but lucky for us we caught them having broken into Umbridge's office so they saved us the trouble." At this her jaw went slack and he tipped his head, assessed her carefully. "You didn't know about it did you?"

She hesitated, and shook her head. She turned her head away in a frustrated manner, and muttered something that sounded like 'those  _idiots_!' under her breath.

"No, it makes sense," he agreed. "Knowing you, you'd have tried to stop them."

She said nothing, and he stepped closer.

"It's time we got moving, Granger. If you resist, I am under obligation to restrain you," he said calmly. "This is a serious matter."

Just as he'd expected her to, she drew her wand quick as a Snitch, but his reflex saved him in time and his shielding charm deflected her Stun. Unfazed, she threw another but yielded the same result. As she began uttering her next, he threw a disarming spell, and caught her wand as it flew toward him.

"Were you not listening to anything I  _just_  said?" he asked angrily.

"You're not the law," she hissed, "and you're not doing anyone except yourself a favor so you can drop the righteous act because  _I've had enough_."

"Where are you going to run?" he asked, leaning against the wall of books beside him. "Hm? I'll give you a sporting chance if you want it so badly, but we both know the outcome."

She didn't reply. Her posture was a little crouched, tense, arms held slightly away from her body as if preparing for sudden movement, but he could read in her eyes that she knew she was trapped.

"You've dragged this on long enough," he said. "Or do you want more charges added to your sentence?"

"What sentence?" she asked stiffly. Panic flickered across her face before she managed to control it.

"You didn't think you would just get a light suspension, did you?" his eyes gleamed. "Or a tap on the wrist, as you usually do? You broke several rules decreed by the Headmistress, formed an illegal society within the school and hosted a number of said illegal meetings to teach spells that the Headmistress herself decided were too dangerous to be taught. Let's see...you resisted questioning on multiple occasions and are suspected of giving aid to students whom were punished and therefore undeserving of it. Not to mention just now," he gestured to himself, "you attacked me when I had no intention of harming you."

"That's a lie," she said, and he could see that she was shaking. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to hurt me."

Draco didn't know how to tell her that she was mistaking that look for something else, but as he didn't want to tell her just  _what_  he was feeling, he decided not to correct her. The anger he felt was currently directed at himself, for letting her affect him in this way. It was maddening, this game, and he was starting to fear that he was in some sort of danger just being near her again. What kind of danger, he couldn't determine.

"Don't be stupid," he said at last, but he'd taken too long to reply and she'd taken the pause as his confirmation.

"I've done nothing wrong," she whispered.

"Come with me, then, and defend yourself," he replied tonelessly. "We'll see what good that does you."

"You're always so confident you've won," she said, an edge to the curve on her lips. "How do you live like that, never realizing how wrong you are?"

"I'll admit, it's times like this that I start to have doubts," he said sarcastically, and then laughed.

"Shall I spell it out for you, Mudblood? Your hideout has been taken over. Your Head of House isn't here to protect you, nor is Dumbledore. Nobody will help you. We have all we need except you so do me a favor and get going."

"Am I taking up your time?" she asked innocently.

Draco looked at her hard, and took a moment to respond.

"Far too much."

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?" she squared her shoulders. "At least give me my wand."

"Not a chance," he said curtly. "Now are you going to stand there and keep mouthing off or do I have to haul you up there?"

She gave him a mutinous look.

"Your friends are waiting," he added impatiently, and her mouth opened to let out a small ' _oh_ ', as if she'd forgotten.

"Oh, you  _forgot_  about them?" His tone was positively waspish. "That's rich, Granger. I'll make sure to tell them later."

She looked plenty willing to keep arguing, but thought better of it. They were both still in the library, after all, and despite the area not being heavily populated, neither wanted to create a scene.

 _And,_ she thought, heart pounding,  _he still has my wand._

Draco tucked it into his pocket, allowed himself a self-congratulatory smirk. He stepped toward her and she tensed, not knowing what to do.

"It was you, wasn't it," he said.

"Don't come near me," she warned. He stayed where he was.

"It was all your idea. I know it was. Weaselbee couldn't have come up with it himself, that's damned certain. Henrietta told us all about the galleons, and the secret meetings. The whole thing stank of you. No one else could have come up with that. No one but you."

"This sounds more like a compliment than an accusation," she said, challenging his stare with her own.

"Think of it what you will." He stepped close, inclined his head. "I want you to listen close, and you had better comply without making a fuss. You're going to follow me to Umbridge's office. No tricks, no running, or you'll be sorry. Understood?"

She looked right through him, jaw clenched, posture rigid. The sun had set and they were awash in the sympathetic glow of the closest lamp. Outside the sky was a dusky orange, but purple bled into the sky and was rapidly overtaking it. Her eyelashes cast long, delicate shadows on her cheekbones. Her eyes were furious, slightly unfocused. "Yes."

"I mean it, Granger. Push one toe past that line and things will only get worse for you. No blubbering, either. I won't have you spoiling my good mood." He waited a moment to let that sink in, and then made his way out, listening keenly for her footsteps behind him, and once they began (reluctantly) he strode forward faster.

They made their way like that until they stepped into the empty corridor and he paused, realizing she'd gone silent. He turned, and she was gone.

"You-" the rest of his sentence was cut off by her elbow jamming into his solar plexus, then her foot in his groin. Draco gasped and doubled over, took a knee as he registered the pain. Fire, fire, fire. He was engulfed in it. She'd knocked the air from his lungs, he could only wheeze as he tried to get himself to rights before she ran away.

She was about to, he could tell. Reaching blindly, he snatched her wrist as she started and wrenched her back, but was forced to let her go when her punch landed on his jaw-a little off mark but full of force. The punch knocked him off balance and he staggered, slumped against the wall. Draco tasted blood as he accidentally bit his tongue from the blow, and saw nothing for a second or two, felt nothing but white-hot pain in three different points on his person.

There she could have made the perfect escape. There she could have fled and evaded his fury, but she made one fatal mistake. Trembling in the rush of adrenaline, she reached inside his jacket for her wand and found it, but before she had the chance to pull it out he countered with a shove that knocked her to the floor.

Ignoring the several pains throughout his body, he stood quickly, pointing his wand at her. He spat blood onto the floor, worked his jaw to make sure it wasn't broken.

"You little  _bitch_."

She could only glare.

"Get up," he ordered.

She opened her mouth to argue but he tipped his wand threateningly and she obeyed. He kept her locked in place with a freezing charm for good measure, because she looked ready for another go, and his patience had snapped in two.

Draco stepped forward, pressed the tip of his wand to her throat.

"When you're crying to everyone about how unfairly you were treated I want you to remember that I warned you beforehand, and that you brought this on yourself."

Though she remained frozen she heard every word, and he caught the transition in her eyes from hate to dread as he pressed his wand harder into her neck.

"Imperio."

One spell was replaced by another and he watched grimly as her posture relaxed and her eyes clouded over. She looked mildly content, at peace, as if having just woken from the perfect night's sleep. Draco could only guess at the panic that lied beneath that calm exterior.

"Follow me and stay silent. Don't do anything else."

She nodded. Her eyes were on him but she looked right through him as if he weren't there. Draco turned and set out for Umbridge's office, hobbling for most of the way until he remembered to administer a pain relieving charm or two. She followed closely, and when they finally reached their destination he opened the door promptly and ushered her inside, ending the spell as she crossed the threshold.

When the door shut her mind clicked back into place and Hermione found herself in Umbridge's cramped office, face to face with the Headmistress herself. She looked as if she'd been declared Prime Minister, and Hermione felt her stomach drop as she looked around. Harry and Ron were standing before Umbridge's desk, looking as if they would have rushed to her the moment she'd entered if Crabbe and Goyle weren't keeping them in place with their meaty arms. She sensed Malfoy behind her and realized what he'd done, and felt doubly ill.

"Miss Granger," the Headmistress said, smiling widely, "you finally decide to grace us all with your presence."

"She had nothing to do with it," Harry said at once.

"It was our idea," Ron said.

"If I wanted you to speak, I would have addressed you directly," Umbridge said, sounding harsher than she'd probably intended. Clearing her throat, she resumed her plummy sweet tones. "You have tested my patience well enough today, and it is in your best interest to cooperate or this will not end well for you." She gave a squeal of a laugh. "Not that there is an alternative."

"Now," she said, bustling around to her desk, "There has been a confession so I will know if you are lying to me, and I want it known that I will not tolerate it. This is your last chance for any sort of redemption, if there is anything left of you to salvage."

The three of them stared back at her coolly. Umbridge  _hemmed_  and sat down heavily in her chair, and looked at Draco, who now sported a dark bruise on his cheek. Her eyes almost popped out of her head.

"How did you come by such a hideous mark, Draco?"

"The Mudblood gave it to me, Professor."

At the slur Ron gave a furious shout, which was muffled by Crabbe's paw. He bit into it and howling, Crabbe clouted him on the side of his head. Umbridge gave him a withering look.

"Contain yourself, Weasley. I've had enough of your outbursts." Then she turned to face Hermione again, who stared back angrily.

"Why did you assault Mr. Malfoy?"

"I was trying to escape," she answered.

"Well,  _that_  is something," the Headmistress replied, folding her hands over her paunchy stomach. "To think that such a perfect student could get into such trouble...but then it is no surprise to me since I've seen it all before."

"Seen what, Professor?" Hermione asked, clenching her fists. Malfoy's hands on her shoulders kept her in place but she'd not thought of charging forward. She tried to shake him off but his grip held and she settled uneasily, blowing her hair out of her face.

"The rise and fall of your kind, my dear," Umbridge was saying. "I knew eventually you would give in to your true nature."

This time not only Ron but all three of them lunged forward, and were hauled back by their respective warden. Hermione took advantage of Malfoy's closeness to attempt to steal her wand back again, but no sooner than she found her wand inside his coat pocket he ripped her hands away and held her arms behind her back, turned her around roughly to face the front. Umbridge was watching with a triumphant gleam in her eye.

"Like animals you are born and it is animals you turn into when provoked," she said. Hermione wished for her wand so hard she didn't hear Ron's insults and the crack of Crabbe's fist breaking his nose, the pained shout that came after. She was boiling with rage, so much so that she found it hard to focus on anything. Malfoy's hands were like iron around her wrists and she felt her pulse in them where the circulation was cut off. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe evenly. Why was this affecting her so badly? When was the last time she'd slept for more than five hours? What was Malfoy whispering in her ear? She couldn't focus on anything.

"Crabbe," Umbridge was saying, "take Mr. Weasley to Argus. He will know what to do with him."

"Yes, ma'am," Crabbe mumbled.

"I want to stay with them," Ron protested, looking at Harry and Hermione. There was blood still leaking from his nose, dripping from his chin to soak into his robes and Umbridge's carpet.

"There's no need for worry," Umbridge told him, giving him her nastiest smile. "They will be joining you shortly. You won't be alone, if that's why you are afraid. I'm sure you'll find the rest of your friends there. Crabbe, now please."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried look as a restrained Ron was led out the door.

"Now Miss Granger," Umbridge said brightly, clasping her hands behind her back. "I have been informed that this whole operation was your idea."

"That's not true, I told you," Harry said loudly. "It was mine."

"Look at your hand and read your scar out loud, Potter."

"I told you-"

" _That isn't what it says, Potter!_ " her voice was shrill. Goyle guffawed.

"I must not tell lies," Harry said, and Hermione shivered. She'd never heard his voice go so cold.

"Remember that next time, or I will see you worse than expelled."

"You can't threaten him like that!" Hermione snapped, but the Headmistress ignored her. She pulled something out of her desk and shoved it at Hermione.

"You wrote this, I assume?"

It was the DA's signature sheet. Hermione faltered. She'd forgotten about it, since their last meeting. She'd merely assumed someone had taken it down as precaution when Malfoy had cornered her outside the Room of Requirement but now she understood it had been taken for an entirely different reason. The sting of betrayal burned at her eyes.

"Even if you lie to me I have no need of your confirmation. I have had it examined and we know this is yours."

"It's mine," she said. Her mouth had gone dry.

"You wrote it?"

"Yes."

"This was all your idea?"

"Yes."

"Why did you feel this was necessary when I was already teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Because you weren't doing it properly," Harry said loudly, and Goyle hit him so hard his glasses skittered to the floor. Hermione found herself wishing she still had her Time Turner, and suddenly she knew what to do.

" _Hem, hem,_ " Umbridge called Hermione's attention back to her. "You have not answered my question."

"Because...we were training to protect it," she said, and Harry looked at her, guarding his surprise at her lie. Malfoy's hands locked tighter around her arms.

"You're hurting me," she hissed at him, but her words went unheard.

"Protect 'it'? Protect  _what_?" Umbridge was asking. Harry watched her carefully, and she gave him a tiny nod.

_Trust me._

Harry inclined his head.

Not needing to act, she allowed her fear to overwhelm her for a brief moment, just enough to burst into tears.

"T-to protect the sec-secret weapon!" She tried twisting, but couldn't. Malfoy held her by the elbows, hands digging so deep she felt the pressure in her bones.

" _Please!_ " she shouted, "he's hurting me!"

"Draco, let her go!" Umbridge ordered quickly, and at once, his hands were gone, to her immense relief.

Hermione rubbed at her arms, shaking. His hands had left red marks. Umbridge, meanwhile, had gone pale.

"What secret weapon? Is it Dumbledore's?" She grabbed Hermione by the arm. "Tell me, stupid girl!"

"Yes!" Hermione cried, trying to tear her arm out of Umbridge's clammy grasp. "He told us to keep it safe for him while he was gone!"

"Professor," Malfoy cut in coldly, "she's lying."

"I'm not lying!" Hermione insisted. "It was too powerful and we couldn't control it. He left it in the forest." She wiped at her nose. "After you placed the curfews we couldn't go and see it as much as we needed to. It's probably gone by now."

Umbridge's expression was serious, but in her eyes there was greed, so she paid no attention to Malfoy's warning, and turned to Harry.

"Is this true?"

Harry did his best to look defeated. "Yes."

"Where is it?" she demanded.

"I'd have to show you," Hermione said. "It was always dark when we went to see it, I couldn't remember off the top of my head."

"No, I think not," Umbridge said, smiling nastily, and Hermione's stomach lurched. "I have everything I need to know for further action. Potter, you will take me to see this weapon."

"Professor-"

" _Enough_ , Draco," Umbridge said impatiently. "I am sure they know there is nothing can be done for them if this turns out to be deception." She gave Hermione a long stare. "Severus has no more Veritaserum in stock, but I can find a way to get your truth. Is this a lie or is it not?"

 _I've come too far already,_  Hermione thought, still shaking. She met Harry's eye and he nodded again.

"It is not," she said. "I swear it."

"It best not be," the Headmistress told her seriously, and then turned to Harry.

"Get up. You will show me the location."

" _Professor_ -"

"Draco, you will stay here to watch the Mudblood," Umbridge said with a note of finality in her tone. "I have made my decision. I will deal with you when we return," she said, casting Hermione an ominous, unbearably smug look. "Restrain her if you must, Draco."

Hermione began shaking harder. She could feel Malfoy's anger radiating from him though he was still behind her.

"Harry doesn't have his glasses," she tried again desperately. "He can't see."

Annoyed, Umbridge looked at Harry, and frowned.

"Where are your glasses?"

"This brute knocked them off me," Harry said, gesturing behind him to Goyle, who looked proud of himself. "They're on the floor."

Hermione cursed inwardly, wishing she'd been nearer to them so she could have kicked them out of sight. Umbridge ordered Goyle to pick them up and he did so sullenly, handing them back to Harry like a child who has been scolded by its mother to give back a toy he has stolen.

She tried to think of another excuse for her to go instead of Harry, but hit a mental block. If she tried again she would definitely make Umbridge suspicious and then her plan would not work.

_Still..._

She could feel Malfoy's hands before they wrapped back around her arms, and she shuddered. This was what she'd wanted to avoid. At no point did she want to be alone with Malfoy, especially when he knew her secret.

Hermione watched Umbridge tow Harry out of the office, his hands bound together and her wand held ready at her side. Anger simmered inside her as she watched Umbridge's ill-concealed glee at her own victory, and hoped beyond hope that Harry would know just what she'd meant.

The moment the door shut behind them she cringed, and indeed not a second passed before Malfoy spun her around and gripped the tops of her arms this time, lips curled in a feral snarl.

"You lying  _filth_ ," he spat at her, and she flinched at the fury in his voice. His eyes were so cold they might as well have been made from ice. They bored into her with such an intensity she couldn't look away, couldn't protest as he pressed her back against the wall so hard Umbridge's kitten adorned china plates wobbled. Hermione opened her mouth to gasp in pain but he mistook it for an intended scream, and smothered it with his palm.

"Let go of me!" she tried to shout, but the words were muffled beyond comprehension. She reached up to shove him away, to pummel at his chest and arms but he pinioned her wrists to the wall on either side of her head.

"What did you send them to?" he ordered.

"The weapon!" she whispered, struggling to break free.

"I'm not an idiot like  _her_ ," he snarled, gripping her wrists tighter. "I didn't fall for your pathetic act."

Heart beating madly, Hermione tried desperately to keep from crying again. At least she didn't have to struggle to keep her face straight.

"I swear it, Malfoy."

"Your promises mean nothing to me," he said coldly, stepping in closer to her. Her eyes were wild with fear, her lips dry and pressed together from trying to withstand the pain. "Don't make me imperio you again."

"Don't!" she pleaded, and in her humiliation the tears broke free. "Please!"

He paused for a moment, watching her closely.

"Damn you," he said softly, "I told you not to cry."

"I'm nothing to you, aren't I?" she asked, working around her thick tongue.

She'd caught him off guard, but through the distorted veil the tears made in her eyes she could not see it.

"I'm nothing, nothing," she was saying, and broke down completely, falling limp but he held her up so she hung there, fists unfurling open weakly and she hung her head down, consumed in her humiliation.

"I'm full of the same magic you are," she said shakily, "I have every right to be here and I work so hard to prove my worth every day when I shouldn't have to because of people like you."

"I was born to Muggle parents, that is something I can not help, nor would I ever change it." She looked up and met his stoic stare. "And I never once thought it was considered a bad thing until I met you."

"You call me 'dirty', you call me 'animal'," she continued, her voice gone raspy. "While you are nobility personified, aren't you?" Her eyes were entrancing, full of sorrow and a hint of defiance. He couldn't bring himself to speak, much less look away from them. "What does it say about you that all you've ever done is try to make me feel less than what I am?"

She tried to stifle a hiccup, but he felt it as her body shook against his briefly. He was too close-he could see every faint little freckle that spanned across her nose. He could see the texture of her chapped lips, the red tinge that encircled her eyes.

"I shouldn't have to fight for basic human right just because of my blood. It's the same as yours, and you know it. You saw it that day. The same red that keeps your heart beating, no less pure. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of  _you_ , but what I say never matters to you, doesn't it, as long as you get your way? This personal vendetta you have against me-don't deny it, I know it's there-I don't know where it came from or why you're so obsessed with it. I've never done anything to you that wasn't unprovoked, yet you seem to take my existence as a slight to your own." She sighed, leaned her head back against the wall and gave him a defeated, wooden smile. Her eyes were tired, the bout of crying she'd experienced had turned her sleepy and truly, now that she'd been caught, Hermione found herself feeling more relaxed than she had been in weeks.

"I still stand by what we did," she added, a little more boldly. "We did nothing wrong. It's no more than what you would have done were you in the same predicament. I guess it's lucky for you that you won't ever have to worry about that. So congratulations," she said simply. "You won." And then she looked away.

What felt like years later he let her go, as if waking from a dream, and turned away to go to the door and stand there without facing her. Relief came, but the fear stayed persistent within her, and she began to wonder if she'd made him well and truly angry. Using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks, Hermione slid down the length of the wall to sit on the floor, too drained to care. Her cheeks were blotchy and red from the cry and some strands of hair stuck to her cheeks but she ignored it and waited for him to speak.

What would come next? She could tell he'd had enough, and was grateful he hadn't hexed her, angry as he was. She'd bared herself to him without meaning to but gods, she was so tired, and it all had slipped out. The emotional upheaval she'd experienced so far that day was quite enough to make her apathetic as to the thought of her punishment. Would he deposit her at Filch's next? Would Ron still be there? She thought of Ginny and Neville and Colin and all the others, hoped that their punishments were only lines and nothing more. As to herself, Ron and Harry, she could not harbor such hopes.

"Get up," came his voice some time later and she stirred, not realizing she'd begun to fall asleep.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked.

"I could knock you over just by blowing on you, Granger. Get up."

"That didn't answer my question. Where will we be going?"

"They've taken too long," he snapped. "This is all your doing, and if you don't get up this bloody instant I will fetch you myself."

That was enough to fuel her movement, though she moved a little slower than usual due to exhaustion.

"I'm not going to hurt you unless you attack me again," he informed her methodically. "Now lead me to this blasted weapon of yours."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

It was cold outside, colder than you'd have thought just by looking out the window but Spring nights have always been tricky in that regard, so she reckoned she shouldn't have been surprised. A cold wet mist rolled over the grounds and dewed the newly green grounds around the school. Looked at up close a blade of grass turned into a sharpened dagger, glistening with near frost. From what little light there was outside, the moon being obscured as it was by a thick canvas of clouds, Hermione could see her breath as she exhaled; a sinister cloud of vapor that blended into the night.

Malfoy had her hands tied behind her back in case she tried 'anything funny', so she couldn't cross them like she wanted to to preserve a little heat. She at least had to count it lucky that there was no wind blowing or else she'd be stuck with a runny nose and a sore throat in the morning-as if she wasn't in some danger of that now.

They'd left the castle quickly and without being seen by a single soul, which troubled her. Everyone was off at dinner and she was here, trapped in the Forbidden Forest with Malfoy, who'd hardly spoken since they'd exited Umbridge's office. Though she was jittery from the cold she was still so tired he had to keep his hand on her back to push her forward, since she'd been walking more slowly than usual. All she wanted to do was lie down on the cold ground and sleep; her eyes felt so dry and uncomfortable she longed for a chance to shut them longer than a second. She'd already tried once, and nearly fell over a protruding root, to Malfoy's annoyance.

All around the tall, spindly trees loomed ominously, shaking their branches at them though there was no breeze. Eerie, but not as frightening as the way she remembered the last time she'd been so far deep inside the forest. Then, Harry and Ron had been with her too, guided by Hagrid and Fang. They'd been inches shorter and less wary then. She wondered how Malfoy would react when they came across what she thought they might find. Would he strangle her again? A chill ran up her spine, deeper than the cold that pricked at her skin now. His hand was on her back, warm and stiff. Every now and then a finger would twitch involuntarily and she did her best not to shudder.

The terrain here was looking a little more familiar. The closely packed trees made it difficult to walk too quickly, one had to maneuver themselves just in the right way to evade a slash from the ever present branches. Malfoy, who was a little taller than her, had to stoop for minutes on end to avoid getting maimed in the eyes.

A flash of something bright caught her eye and she looked to find the source. A bell for a bicycle, warped and molded into a disagreeable shape by a great force. Hermione pictured Grawp, growing bored with the bell and no company now Hagrid was gone, and felt sorry for him. Perhaps if they came across him now, he would find some entertainment in Malfoy, and she would have her escape.

"We're almost there," she said quietly, praying they would find Harry soon, and that Grawp had scared off Umbridge just like she'd hoped he would.  _If_  he'd done it.  **If**  Harry had thought to look for Grawp.

Hermione chided herself for having so little faith in Harry. She always did, it was just now, under these strange circumstances, she was feeling doubtful about everything. All thanks to Malfoy.

They reached the familiar Grawp-made clearing, where she, Ron and Harry had been introduced to Hagrid's half brother. She shivered in the cold and remembered how terrifying it'd been to be held by a hand larger than your own body. There was no one there, however, and she realized too late that Harry couldn't have known Malfoy would drag her out here too. She was certain he'd gone back to the castle to try and free the rest of the DA.

"Why is there nothing here?" Malfoy asked, his voice menacingly soft.

"They've gone," she said. He turned to look at her.

"What have you done?"

Hermione saw no more reason to lie. "If things went according to how I thought they would, I've ridden Hogwarts of its least loved Professor."

Malfoy stared at her, evidently shocked. Then, suddenly enough to startle several birds from their perch in the barren trees, he gave a great laugh.

"Of course you have," he said, but then all trace of mirth was gone from his face. "I knew it."

"Would you let me go now?" Hermione asked. "I imagine I did you a favor as well. For all your lobbying to be her favorite I know you liked her just as much as anyone else in the castle."

"That's true," he said, nodding. "But exactly what have you done to her?"

"I haven't got the faintest idea." She gave him a cold look. "I didn't exactly have time to plan this out."

"And Potter?" he asked, looking round. "Where do you think he's gone?"

"That I won't tell you," Hermione said. "But clearly, without Umbridge you have no hold over me." She turned her back to show him her bound hands. "Release me. It's freezing out. We shouldn't be out here anyhow."

There was a brief silence, and she waited patiently as he slowly made his way to her. She could hear the crunching of the cold ground under his feet. Then, unexpectedly, his hand was on her shoulder and he turned her to face him again. His eyes became translucent in the moonlight, and her mouth went dry.

"Why would I do that?"

"It's over, Malfoy," she said. "Umbridge won't be returning. Not as Headmistress. If at all."

"Merlin, you're a fright, Granger," he murmured, grabbing her chin to tilt her face upwards where it caught the moonlight. He looked into her eyes, searching. "There are all types of dangerous creatures out here. She could be more than seriously injured."

"You saw how she treated me," Hermione replied, tearing herself out of his hold viciously. "You've seen what she's done to the school, to your own classmates. She didn't care about anyone in that castle as long as she was in command and you know it. She got what she deserved. Would you feel sorry if you'd done the same?"

Draco frowned. "No, I wouldn't."

"Then you understand perfectly." She looked at him carefully. "I thought you'd be angrier about this."

"Oh I am, have no doubt about that," he said. "You merely continue to surprise me."

"I'm glad I amuse you so." Her voice was dry, and she let out a huff of annoyance. "Please let me go. Is that what you want, for me to beg again? There you have it." She looked away from him. "I can't stand to be around you anymore."

"Will you have me disappear too?" he asked softly. His hand curled around her neck and she went cold, flinched away. "Who knew you could be so ruthless?"

"I am what you made me," she replied hatefully. "You corner me day after day and make me feel like I am helpless. You make me feel  _weak_. But I strike back once, and you call me monster."

"I didn't order you to sack the Headmistress." He stepped closer to her and she tried backing away, but his hand at the back of her neck prevented her from moving far and he came so close she saw every individual lash that framed his eyes. Her cold breath filled the cracks between them.

"She had it coming. I did what had to be done."

"You should have been in Slytherin," he said, and this time it was her turn to laugh.

"Yes, and be the pariah of the whole House. No one would have accepted me there."

"Pansy would have," he said, and neglected to say that he might have too.

"Perhaps," she replied, "but even then I would still have to spend more time with you than I'd like. And I'm nothing like you. I belong where I am now."

They drifted into silence. Hermione had grown accustomed to the cold and had stopped shaking at last. Draco felt none of it. The closer he got to her the more the heat inside him grew. He wondered what would happen if he let it fan into flame.

"Are you going to untie me yet?" she asked impatiently. "If not I'll just run to the castle, but woe on you when I get hold of a wand."

She jumped when his hand touched her cheek, fingertips grazing against her cold skin. Hermione glared at him, and gasped as he pressed her up against a tree quite suddenly. The action caused a lock of her hair to fall across her eyes and she shook her head to get it out, to tell him no.

Gently, he reached up and brushed the hair away, his hand resting on her temple. Hermione watched him, eyes wide and nostrils flared in fear. The night air was cold and sharp in her lungs; each quick breath was a small pain but she couldn't control herself. He hadn't moved but it seemed to her that each second only brought him closer. The bark dug uncomfortably into her back and it itched like hell, but she couldn't find the words to speak.

"Don't threaten me, Mudblood."

Malfoy's eyes were the strangest thing she'd ever seen-void of color in the moonlight and still ringed with shadows. They were hooded now, he looked down from her eyes to stare at her lips. His hand tightened briefly around her neck, and she flinched. When their eyes met again hers were full of trepidation.

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asked, for the second time that day.

By way of answer, he leaned in closer. Hermione froze instantly, every thought falling silent as he touched his lips to hers so softly, like they weren't there at all, like a feather being brushed against her lips, and then pressed a little more. He turned his head and her eyes screwed shut and his nose pressed into her cheek, his hand brought her closer to him. His lips were warm against hers, she was surprised to find. Softer than they looked. His eyelashes tangled with hers as he bit her lip and she gasped. The bark dug into her arms almost painfully but she couldn't feel it, couldn't remember where she was.

What was he doing? What had he done? It was too late to think about it now-he felt her shock and was shocked himself but couldn't find it in himself to stop. She was just as soft as he'd imagined, and sweeter than. He kissed her once more, cupped the back of her head in his palm, stepped into her, braced his other arm against the tree. She was shaking and cold and still, her lips were molded against his and the pressure was perfect but he wanted more. Briefly he remembered how he'd resolved to not let her affect him in this way, and longed to laugh. By the time he'd come to that decision he was past the point of saving. How couldn't he have seen it then?

It was getting hard to breathe. The way she felt against him-he never wanted to move again. Lord, he was so close to spiraling out of control. What would he do now? She'd thawed from her fear and tried pulling away but he jerked her closer, and she whimpered. Her lips were hesitant against his but he pressed harder and she yielded shyly. Pleased, Draco gentled his kiss a little, and then she bit down  _hard_  on his lower lip. Draco hissed, she pushed herself forward and shouldered him away with all her strength. He stumbled backward, cupping his mouth in his hand. His concentration was broken, and the spell holding her arms captive fell away. When he straightened, whatever had possessed him in those moments before was gone from his eyes but she still backed away. Both their lips were wet with his blood. It shone black in the night. Hermione wiped it away shakily.

Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen and red, but her eyes turned dark with rage.

"I would rather you have tried strangling me again."

He seemed at a loss-as if just now realizing what he'd done. He blinked slowly, lips parted. One hand was still raised halfway into the air where he'd had a grip on her neck. Hermione shuddered violently.

"Don't you  _ever_  do that again."

He looked up at last, gave her a strange look.

"I thought-"

"You thought what?" Her voice was so sharp he flinched. "That you could insult me to my face and then kiss me as if that would take the sting away? As if it would make me forget what a  _complete_  arsehole you've been to me?"

"I didn't realize what I was doing," he admitted, and she scoffed.

"Really? You didn't realize you were kissing the person you hate the most?  _Liar_."

"I don't-," he tried to say, but the rest couldn't come out and he was too afraid to try. Would she even believe him? Perhaps she would think it was a trick, but he meant it. Her words in Umbridge's office had affected him more than he wanted to admit-he hadn't been able to face her after because he'd realized it was all true. Everything she accused him of, it was true, except that he didn't hate her anymore. It was a strange realization-shocking, too, but he felt it was true. An alien sensation...how long had it been this way?

What he'd thought was hatred for her had only been projection of his hatred for himself for liking her. The quips, the banter, although mean spirited, the clever ways in which she'd evaded him. He'd followed her more than he needed to because he'd become accustomed to her company and had refused to accept the fact that he actually craved it. In working to spy on her he'd uncovered his own secret-she was very much his equal, if not better than.

Was she infuriating at times? Yes. Was she stubborn as the Whomping Willow? Gods, yes-but she was brilliant. And she was kind, to those who deserved it. She was loyal, insufferably so but he could not fault her that. Funny, too, and often at his own expense, though he was sure he deserved it every time. She was the strongest person he'd ever known. And to see her break down like that in the pink office, all because of him, it hurt him to see. He still was trying to process the fact. It had shocked him to feel it, that regret. She didn't deserve what he'd done to her, what he'd forced her to do, but it had already happened and there was no taking it back. And how despicably he'd acted...Merlin. She'd been right about him.

His lips were still warm from kissing her, but the cold night air was leeching that away quickly. Kissing her had been an impulsive act; he'd known she would have burned him but foolishly pressed on and now he would pay for what he'd done. Worse still that she didn't know why. She would laugh at him, scorn him, perhaps, but he at least could clear up the matter that he hated her. He didn't, and the words were there on his tongue, ready for exposure. Again, he tried to explain, but couldn't find the strength to open his mouth, so she beat him in breaking the silence.

"You called me Mudblood," she said slowly, touching her fingers to her lips. "But you don't believe it after all, do you? Or else you wouldn't have done this." She looked at him curiously, suspiciously. "What's changed you?"

"Nothing," he said too quickly.

"Pureblood, noble Malfoy, stooped so low to kiss a Muggleborn witch." Epiphany flashed across her face. "Everything you've done to me this year, did you really believe yourself when you said you were doing it for the job?"

"Stop right there, Granger. Don't say another word."

There was a smile of pity on her lips as she walked to him. Draco tensed as she raised her hand to his face, expecting a slap or another punch, but was surprised when she wiped the blood from his lips.

"You're attracted to me, aren't you."

Fear surged through him. Of all the people to have this happen to, it had to be the brightest one in all the school. Then again, the kiss might have been a glaring red sign. Old habit kicked in before he knew better, and he jerked away from her touch.

"I'd rather die." She laughed.

"Oh, but you're in denial. That's good, very good." Her eyes hardened. "My wand, if you please. Or shall I get it myself?"

Draco held her glare, but finally realizing he had no other choice, withdrew it from his coat and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, and tucked it inside her robes. He watched her angrily, not knowing what to do.

"There's no need to look like I've murdered your owl," she told him. "We all have crushes we very strongly regret. It's part of human nature. We can't help it. I'll advise you to act differently in the future, however. No one likes being strangled or stalked for any reason whatsoever."

"I don't  _fancy_  you," he snarled. "You're just making things up now."

"Prove it then," she said, angling her face upwards to see his better. "See if you can bring yourself to kiss dirty little me again. What's one kiss to defend your honor, questionable as it may be? Prove me wrong."

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he muttered.

"Correction, you  _snogged_  me. There's a difference. And no, you shouldn't have."

"I wish I'd never done it." A lie. Poorly done, but he was grasping.

"And I'm still waiting."

He didn't move and she smirked. There was a threatening look in his eye but she waved it off.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your secret, but only on the terms that you leave me alone from this moment onwards," she said. "I don't want you following me about or even looking my way when I pass, is that clear?"

"That seems excessive."

"I haven't finished, Malfoy. Kindly hear me out and then accept my offer because I will not take anything less. I don't want you sitting next to me in any class, even if that seat is the last one available."

"That's preposterous," he said, looking livid. "What would I tell the Professor if they ask why I make a scene over not being able to sit next to you?"

Her voice was unaffected. "You're clever, you'll figure something out. Play the Mudblood card if you must, that hasn't stopped you before."

"Fine," he spat. "Fine to everything save that last part. That's just ridiculous."

She gave him a scathing look, her  _I'm-not-done_  look. "I don't want you touching me. Not even brushing shoulders in the corridor-I don't care how crowded they get, there's still enough space for maneuvering so you'll just have to try harder. I don't ever want a repeat of  _this_ ," she said, flushing as she pointed to her reddened lips. "Violate any of these terms and your father and mother will be receiving some interesting contents for their pensieves, along with a lengthy letter sent by yours truly."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "You're blackmailing me now?" If he wasn't so annoyed he would have been impressed.

"If it's the only way to get what I want, then yes," she replied. "I really wouldn't have considered this but after months of asking you to leave me alone to no result, I figured I had to be drastic." She averted her eyes. Even amidst the dark he could see her blush. "That's why I let you kiss me for so long. Got to give them something to be angry about."

Draco reckoned they already had that without her help. It was enough that he'd kissed her, but to add that he  _liked_  her? Oh, he was in for a world of trouble now.

They might not be going through this if he'd just told her the truth the moment he'd realized it. He'd always been aware of the consequences but couldn't seem to remember them when it was most important. He wished he hadn't felt anything when he'd kissed her. Of course, her fears were valid and he didn't begrudge her for blackmailing him into keeping a fair distance, but he realized now he would never get to apologize or even admit the truth of what he felt now, and that rankled deep within him, especially since he knew it was his own fault, so he drew himself up with what pride he had left and agreed.

"Excellent," she said, and stuck her hand out. "I expect you to keep your word, or I will come through on my threat, believe me." Her expression was that of the utmost loathing, and it only made him angrier.

"You don't have to threaten me to stay away from you," he retorted, but he shook her hand anyway to cement the deal. Whatever he felt, it would pass, and this was just the opportunity for it. If he stayed away from her he had nothing to fear. She was right, as usual, he thought bitterly. He'd never felt badly about any crush he'd ever had because they'd always worked out well for him. Well, she would be his first. Satisfied, she made her way back inside the castle, presumably to find her friends, and Draco stayed outside in the cold, alone.


	15. Chapter Fifteen:Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Harry Potter.

Now Umbridge was gone the school was back to rights. There had been a few shaky days when things were transitioning back to normal where he caught himself and others walking around somewhat dazedly, as if they'd all just woken from some terrible dream. An uncomfortable sight-wherever you looked you were bound to see someone looking down at the scars on their hand and see the grim realization set in-it had really happened. He couldn't vouch for them. He hadn't suffered like the rest of them. He'd been the one watching those words carve themselves into their skin and they remembered, oh they remembered. Hostile eyes met him at every angle wherever he went, and it was only in the Slytherin commons that he had any peace, but that old convivial Hogwarts spirit so far had failed to return to that particular part of the castle.

The school term was just about over and he found himself longing to be back at the Manor where silence reigned. Silence there was here in abundance, but not the kind he wanted. Here it was a tense, awkward absence of sound, and it followed him wherever he went, pushed its way into other's mouths as they looked at him. At home it was simply the peaceful stillness of knowing he was alone. He missed it more than ever, and couldn't wait to have it again.

He flexed his hand, made a tight fist. He'd been a fool to think he'd managed to control his own temper. For days after the incident with Granger he'd been the calmest he could remember being that year. Even when a successfully recovered Professor McGonagall came by to announce the end of the Inquisitor Squad. Even when Professor Dumbledore had summoned him to his office to assign him an 'overdue' punishment for strangling Granger, which Umbridge's power had obstructed. Even when he'd been forced to work with the oaf groundskeeper for a week after classes.

Even when he'd looked up during dinner one night to see Weasley with his arm around her shoulders. She'd brushed it away, laughing, not seeing the look in the redhead's eyes as he gazed at her.

And then the next day, one day before the end of term, none of them three Gryffindors were at their table. Several others were missing, too, and he wasn't the only one who noticed.

The Headmaster hadn't been in attendance at that night's meal. He wondered what he had to do with it, and ate his meal silently, wondering if the trio had started their holiday early or if-an eye roll was necessary here-they'd rushed off to save the school again from some threat hardly anyone was aware of.

It wasn't until hours after dinner that there'd been such a commotion outside the great hall that everyone came out to see what was wrong, bleary-eyed and clad in their nightclothes. He hadn't even been in bed, he'd been in the Astronomy Tower, and if it weren't for all the din the paintings in the stairwell made echoing up to him, he'd have missed it entirely so he went, already knowing who would be the source of the trouble.

And he was right, as always. The three of them were standing there in the midst of the chaos, tears in their clothes and scratches on their faces. Potter was paler than he'd ever seen him, but something strange and raw burned in his eyes and he appeared dazed, as if he'd been struck. It took Draco a moment to recognize the face of grief, and when he did his interest was piqued at once. Granger was close behind him, too close, and Weasley had to shout something into her ear to get them both to move and then they began to weave through the mess and out of the room. He caught a glimpse of Granger's profile as she passed nearby, not even seeing him there. The younger students were crying, the staff was trying to arrange order but was failing miserably.

"He's back!" he heard someone shout among the waves of panicked voices. "You-Know-Who is back!"

 _Is that all?_ He'd thought, vaguely annoyed.

He turned to leave. Someone caught him by the arm and he found himself face to face with Pansy. Her hair was in disarray, her eyes were red. Was it from being woken so suddenly or from crying? He searched her face urgently for a sign, and found none.

"Your father was caught," she said.

He blinked. Leaned down to hear her better amongst the ruckus. "What?"

"They captured your father, Draco," she said. There was a tremor in her voice. "I'm sorry."

 _How_ , he tried to ask, but by then she'd slipped away back into the crowd, and once more, he was alone.

A hysteric first year accidentally tripped and grabbed onto his sleeve for support. Draco wrenched away and left the scene, very much aware of the dread that slowly filled his stomach.

_They captured your father. I'm sorry._

His mind had gone a little blank after those words but just now came back to itself-one thought sped after the tails of a million others, and it was impossible to catch up.

_What happens now?_

When he got back to his dorm there was a note on his bed, warded by a powerful security spell. The envelope was blank but once he touched it a signature appeared on the front-his mother's. He drew the curtains around his bed and opened it. He didn't like that his fingers were shaking.

_The Dark Lord and Dumbledore battled at Ministry. Potter was there, trying to stop the Dark Lord's plan. The Minister and the Order arrived quickly, put an end to it. Your Father and Bella were captured, among others. They say they saw him try to kill Potter, which is untrue-we know he is for the Dark Lord. Too many witnesses, no trial. Azkaban expected for them both._

_You will be under scrutiny from now on. They will want to get you too. You do not have the Mark, so they cannot obtain you unless you cause trouble. Do not give them any reason to doubt us further. Do not talk to anyone. Do not let them provoke you._

_The Dark Lord is expecting to meet with you this summer. It is urgent. He says he has a task for you._

_Sleep. Do not fret. We have plans in motion. I will see you tomorrow. I love you._

Any chance he could have had of sleeping were completely eradicated now. After destroying the note he tried to sleep the way he was but that proved uncomfortable so he changed into his pyjamas but that fixed nothing.

What could the Dark Lord want with him? He knew he was going to be marked soon but this was going to be something different. A task, so he said. Probably to prove his loyalty. It was nothing to worry about, then. His own father had told him about what he'd had to do when he'd first been marked. Capturing a few Muggles was the most common one, supposedly. Uneasily, he wondered what his would be.

The next morning brought about the silence he hated so. No one could look him in the eye except for Blaise, who nodded at him as if to acknowledge that he'd heard, and empathized for him. He dressed and went to breakfast, feeling strangely apathetic. None of the staff was present. The great hall was abuzz and tense with the events of the night before still clear in everyone's minds.

Potter was absent of the morning rush, oddly. Draco looked to the great doors, expecting him to burst through triumphant, but instantly remembered the look of grief he'd worn the night before. Who'd died? If it had been anyone from school it would be obvious-he distantly remembered the way they had mourned Cedric Diggory's death only one year ago. It had to be someone else...

He heard her voice and his concentration broke. He didn't want to look at her but his eyes refused to listen. She was glowing in the morning light, looking a little worn and frail but there was an air of satisfaction around her that he immediately  _hated_. Weasley was milking it for all it was worth, as usual. A glare from Granger made him stop, though, and he shrugged, went back to eating rather messily. Draco felt his anger rise and looked away in disgust.

It must have been her fault. It had to have been. The blackmail clearly hadn't been enough-she'd had to go and lock up his father too, the overachiever. Draco clenched his jaw. That hadn't been part of the deal but she was always looking for extra credit, wasn't she?

Well.

Draco pushed away from the table. He hadn't even eaten anything but he didn't care. The Hogwarts Express was due in an hour and right now he needed to be as far away from everyone as possible while they crowed about their 'victory'. There'd already been a few who'd made taunts about his father and he'd send them to the Hospital Wing with a bloody nose, an infected eye and no recollection of how either had come about.

He pictured her again, felt his insides twist with hate.

She wanted to him to keep his distance? Fine.

She wanted to keep him under threat? Fine.

It didn't matter now that his Father was locked up and his Mother had bigger things to worry about. He could deal with whatever she threw his way, but this last act was an unnecessary blow. She'd got the better of him last time, he wouldn't deny, but if she thought she was exempt of playing fair then so was he.

So she thought she'd won?

Draco smirked.

No way in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews are highly appreciated. I am currently writing the sequel to this story, called Strange Mercy. Stay tuned for it!


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